


Behind the Mask

by CrystalMoonlightI



Category: Huniepop & Huniecam (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Attempted Seduction, Cheerleaders, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ex-Girlfriend, Explicit Language, F/M, Flirting, Guilt, Huniepop, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, Jealousy, Kissing, Mild Sexual Content, Murder, Musicians, POV Third Person, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Secret Crush, Superheroes, Supervillains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalMoonlightI/pseuds/CrystalMoonlightI
Summary: Glenberry. The Neon City. A place of idolized heroes and wicked villains. It used to be a student town until the wealthy Kane Industries finished buying up its businesses and points of interest. Years later it is a beacon of arts and talents; opportunity and risk go hand-in-hand. Thankfully, that's where Tiffany comes in. Her hero name... is Mystic. (A Huniepop superhero story!)
Relationships: Tiffany Maye/Original Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: Huniepop - Problems Universe





	1. Issue I (Mystic)

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, guys. A little something I've been working on. I figured since it's been almost a year since I wrote anything for Huniepop that I'd really go all out for this one. You guys like superheroes right? Well this is my take! Welcome to 'Behind the Mask'. A (hopefully) short story of a few chapters where we delve into the superhero lives of Huniepop's characters. 
> 
> Lets begin shall we?
> 
> Naturally, this is a spin-off story to my Huniepop Relationship Problems series. I'd recommend you check that out before reading this, as there are key plot points you need to pick up in order to understand.

Glenberry. The Neon City. Population one-hundred-thousand. A place of idolized heroes and wicked villains. It used to be a student town until the wealthy Kane Industries finished buying up the last of the business and points of interest. Now it stood tall as a beacon of arts and talents. A hub for aspiring young musicians and creatives. And with great opportunity came great risk. Thankfully, that's where she came in.

Her name was Miss Mystic. The resident good girl of beautiful Glenberry. An honor student on a Kane Industries scholarship by day. A beacon of kindness and justice by night. It was one heck of a task keeping an entire city safe, but someone had to do it.

Especially tonight of all nights.

Tiffany Maye kept watch over the television screen - alert as ever for any signs of trouble. The gravity of the special event was larger than life; for both Miss Maye's hero persona and the girl behind the mask.

Channel Five's Christie Carmine was already well into her opening report on the sell-out show.

" _Tonight marks the debut of solo sensation Mike Winters' new 'Destiny' album. The handsome lounge singer shot to stardom early this year with hits like 'Firefly' and 'Hold me Tight'. His place as one of Glenberry's finest was cemented when he announced his long-suspected relationship with aspiring young actress and single mother, Kyanna Delrio-"_

The blonde muted the news report and wiped the sweat from her brow. Her skin felt clammy; her heart thumped at double pace.

"Calm down, Tiffany. They have a security detail. You spoke with the Mayor Wankstien... Everything's going to be alright."

The most important part of being a superhero was keeping those pesky personal feelings in check. She'd read enough of Nikki's comic book collection to drum the golden rule into her head. But it was never that easy - least of all now. Her childhood crush and one of her best friends were going to be on stage together in front of thousands of people. Kyanna and Mike... singing together.

Kyanna Delrio - a gorgeous latina lady and talented actress. She first started out wearing chicken suits during ad breaks. Her luck changed after landing the lead role in a hit online soap opera aimed at the student crowd 'All My Lovers'. Before Kyanna's famous days Tiffany often babysat for her young son Philly. The two remained close and still spent time together between Kyanna's various on-screen roles.

Mike Winters was a far more... complicated story. He began as Tiffany's playmate during her childhood days. His uncle James and her mom Jessie almost had an affair. Years later he returned to Glenberry, but not as the little boy she remembered. He'd grown into a tall, blonde; handsome violinist and singer with a gorgeous voice. Swept off her feet, Tiffany fell in love almost right away. A love she still wrestled with to this day.

"I hope they'll be alright..." Tiffany gave her silent screen the equally silent treatment.

Her eyes wandered to the open closet beside her neat single bed.

Hung on the rail was her costume - her mark as one of Glenberry's few and fleeting rays of light; a fancy take on her favorite school uniform. Her shirt had a large 'M' emblazoned upon the chest - with lacy black gloves and striking velvet leggings for contrast. The whole look was finished with a long red cape and an artsy ballroom mask; with special thanks given to Nikki for her arts and crafts skills. Usually her hair was worn loose as well. No over-the-top gimmicks - cute and simple. An outfit for a hero. Most nights Tiffany wore the ensemble with pride. Tonight she prayed for it to stay where it was.

She hated the idea of fighting when her friends were in harm's way.

"Gosh, this is frustrating." Tiffany grabbed for the shiny silver foil ticket on her bedside table - her special invitation to the show. Mike gave it to her the other day, and he'd gone to a lot of trouble. But she couldn't attend as plain old self. Could she? "What do I do?"

She sighed and flopped on the bed, her face buried deep into the pillows. "Any other girl would've been grateful", Mom told her when she was little. "You're special, sweetie. Use your gift to make the world a better place."

It was Jessie's only wish. She too had been a hero at one time. A wish that Tiffany had dedicated her life to fulfilling - at the cost of everything else.

Senior prom was one of the many victims to her life as protector.

The once in a lifetime event was ruined when "Sinistar" (the high school egomaniac) decided he'd hold a teacher hostage over a failed chemistry exam. The supersonic supervillain was really Jeffery - a preppy science fanatic from the grade below. It later came out that he'd blackmailed the faculty into funnelling school funds his way. After his defeat he boldly proclaimed, "I would've built the ultimate death laser if you hadn't meddled. Curse you, Miss Mystic!"

Oh yes - time and again Tiffany had sacrificed the supposed best years of her life. Rewards came in the forms of smiles from those she rescued; of wide-eyed children who snapped pictures after a job well done. Most times she'd accepted her lot in life. It was the way things were for a savior of the weak. Tonight was different. She felt lonely - left out, even though knew she shouldn't have.

She was blessed with Psychokinesis, after all. She could touch others without laying a finger on them, and more. Over time she'd become attuned to her powers. Suspending a fully-loaded shipping crate in mid-air wasn't out of the question if she concentrated hard.

"I mean... I could go... It wouldn't hurt." Tiffany emerged from the pillows and clutched the ticket to her chest.

Kyanna and Mike's concert played out on screen. Fans held up billboards and took pictures with their phones. The Glenberry Arena was alive with smoke and lights and magic. Tiffany yearned to be there more than anything else in the world. If she left now she'd make it in time for the last song - she was sure of it. A single show wouldn't hurt. She'd earned it. Audrey would tell her as much if she were here.

"That settles it." Tiffany rose from the bed and made a beeline for the shower. "You're having a night off, Tiffany Maye."

* * *

By the time Tiffany arrived the concert was bouncing. The stadium's roof was pulled back. Smoke and stage lights had the crowd pumped. Mike's buttery smooth voice kept the girls squalling, much to the dislike of Tiffany's green-eyed monster. Kyanna was by his side, providing backing vocals. She'd become quite the singer since the two announced they were officially an item.

The duo stood together on a huge neon-lit stage and sang their hearts out. A dozen cameras were aimed at them from all sides.

All in all, Tiffany had no regrets with hanging up her cape and boots for the night. The energy was outstanding!

The track died down and the music fell low as Mike and Kyanna finished. The crowd called their names in unison, screaming and crying for more. " _Kyanna and Mike! Kyanna and Mike!"_ Tiffany joined them too, alive with delight. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

The cheers became louder. And louder. And louder still.

Mike stepped to the very edge of the stage, tossing his microphone and catching it in a showing of suave for the many thousand fans. He pumped his fist victoriously. "Thank you, Glenberry! It's great to be back here - where I started. And with my leading lady, too. She's great, ain't she? Don't you think she's great?! Give her a hand, would you?"

Kyanna joined Mike, sliding an arm around his middle. She smooched him unapologetically on the lips for everyone to see. The love and devotion in her violet eyes left Tiffany feeling another twinge of jealousy, one she was quick to push aside.

All the while, the chanting for the duo kept on. Spurred by her supporters, Kyanna took charge. Mike saw her excitement and passed the microphone. "You guys are going loco out there. So... How about one more before we go? Lemme hear more of those cheers. Don't be shy! Make em nice and loud!"

The cheers of ecstasy rose to screams!

"Alright! You asked for it! Now let's-"

The sound system cut out without warning. Kyanna's voice fell quiet.

An army-like helicopter flew overhead, suspended above the stadium's open roof. The emblem of an open-mouthed skull with flaming eyes was emblazoned upon the underbelly for all to see. The aircraft's loud whirling blades drowned out the show and left people talking. "Is this part of the act?" Tiffany overheard from the girl nearest to her. "Sure is cool."

"I dunno," answered her friend. "But you're so right. It'd make for one hell of a stage show."

It wouldn't be the first time the celebrity pair pulled a publicity stunt to get the showgoers fired up. They once arrived by plane for a show at a nearby regional airport. Tiffany hoped it was the case today. People were far from alarmed. Lots aimed their cameras upward, waiting for the climax to whatever stunt they thought was planned.

Back at the front, Kyanna's fearful face gave Tiffany the unfortunate answer she needed.

Burly security scrambled onto the stage to protect the VIP singers - all while an announcement sounded over the venue's crackly public address system. _"Attention... This is not part of the scheduled show. Please collect your belongings and proceed calmly to the exit nearest to you. I repeat... this is not part of the scheduled show..."_

Tiffany's stomach sank like a stone. Gone was the happy-go-lucky college student enjoying a night free of justice and duties. She'd been replaced by an ever-ready fighter for right. A superhero tasked with protecting those who couldn't protect themselves.

An Omega, as the media had coined her kind recently.

Surveying the situation from her place in the crowd, Tiffany thought double-quick about the hows and whys of the situation. A police chopper was supposed to be watching the skies above the arena. She'd organized it the night before under the guise of Miss Mystic. The station chief assured her with hand on heart. How had an unmarked aircraft gotten this close without issue?

Her pondering was cut short when ropes were cast from the sides of the helicopter.

Ladies and gents sporting flashy three-piece red suits descended into the stands. Half a dozen at first; followed by many more rushing in through the venue's entrances and exits shortly after. Their appearances were largely uniform - with gelled-back hairdoes and tacky red shades to match. Almost all of the well-dressed party crashers brandished small weapons - handguns and automatic pistols, while a pair clutched katana swords.

Unrest quickly took hold among the civilians - it always did when firearms came into play.

Having unloaded its quota of evildoers, the helicopter ascended and flew off.

Tiffany felt a shiver down her spine, but tried her best to remain calm. She ticked a mental checklist as the seconds dragged on.

_Quickly taking over a crowded area? Check._

_Tacky outfits and over the top hairstyles? Yep._

_Cheesy logo on their vehicle of choice? That too._

"The work of supervillain," Tiffany whispered under her breath and rolled her eyes. "I'd better hurry."

She'd stashed her disguise in a sports bag inside one of the toilet stalls, just in case. If she was going to suit up and get to work she'd have to act now. The goons were already busy shouting orders and waving their guns about. It wouldn't be long until they locked down the building and closed the roof. So far shots hadn't been fired and the VIPs were safe.

A blessing in more ways than one. They were usually the prime targets in situations like these.

Tiffany used the commotion to her advantage; she was able to escape to the ladies bathroom without much in the way of trouble. Once there she undressed from her shirt, denim shorts and boots. Slipping out of her Tiffany attire and into the skin of Mystic was usually invigorating. Today the sensation was dull and bitter. Dread ran like ice through her veins as she dressed down in the toilet stall.

"I can do this... I can do this..."

Despite her best efforts, her tummy flipped. Tiffany dropped to her knees and lifted the toilet lid. She heaved to the point of fatigue - until her head throbbed and her ears rang. Exhausted, she shuffled away from the green-spattered bowl.

These weren't just strangers tonight. They were two of the dearest people to her. All it would take was one wrong move and-

Tiffany clutched her tummy and dry-heaved. Again. And again. And again.

A gunshot rang out from beyond the bathroom door. Silence fell across the arena. It lasted for seconds... until screams of chaos took over. Tiffany finally snapped to her senses and shook herself clear. "Kyanna and Mike are out there... I have to help them."

Her entire world caved when she made it back to the main stage. Mike cradled a limp and hardly breathing Kyanna in his arms. Pure anguish held him as he clung to her in a sobbing heap, his pristine white shirt was stained red.

One of the many goons towered over him. The barrel of his handgun smoked. A single spent casing sat beside the heartbroken musician.

Kyanna was... She was- Mystic fell to her knees in defeat. She was too late.

"People of Glenberry, hear me!" demanded a snide and bitchy voice over the speakers - a woman's voice.

Mystic raised her blurry eyes from the floor just long enough to see the person behind the catty tone. Female - short in height with a slim figure. She was squeezed tightly into crimson corset dress designed like flames. Her hands were covered by fingerless silk gloves; her face obscured by a frightful half black and half white Phantom of the Opera mask. "The name's Blaze," she spoke with pride. Opening her palm, she sparked up a roaring blue fireball. "And things round here are gonna change really fucking quickly..."

Swallowing grief and almost vomiting again, Mystic found her feet. "You monster," she croaked from the back of her throat. "How could you?!" Her croak became an enraged, hysterical scream. A thousand eyes fell upon her. Innocents. Henchmen; Mike and Blaze.

Blaze met eyes with the superhero from behind her screen, and laughed wickedly.

"Looks like you're finally here. Little late, huh?" She clapped her palms, making her many goons level their weapons on command. "Glenberry's little Ray of Sunshine - Miss Mystic. You're usually waaay more cheery. No sunshine and rainbows tonight?"

"...Shut up," hissed the wounded girl from behind clenched teeth.

"Awwww... What's the matter?" Blaze continued taunting her with glee. "Cat got your tongu-"

"I said shut your darned mouth!"

Mystic threw her hands outward and stretched her fingers wide. A pulse of wobbly, distorted purple energy swept over the arena. In total control, she plucked each and every gun from the hands of Blaze's hired thugs. Desperate to keep everyone else safe, she ripped out magazines and emptied bullets from chambers until there wasn't a spare round to unload between them.

Several goons stared with shock and awe in the aftermath, while Blaze faked an impressed whistle.

"Wow, you disarmed my flunkies... big win. Got anymore party tricks there, cutie?"

"Lots more, Blaze. Especially for you."

Another wave of the hand saw Mystic club the declawed henchmen in the backs of their heads with their weapons. They each went down with a thump, save the nearest two who carried the Japanese-style blades. The pair exchanged unsteady glances, no doubt afraid of their odds. Fearful of the Omega, they dropped their swords and lifted their hands in surrender.

The left-hand goon (a Southeast Asian guy with a smooth face and a festive dragon neck tattoo) went so far as to kick his sword over to Mystic. She could tell even behind his sunglasses just how scared he was. "Take it, alright? This ain't nothing personal. Gotta make money somehow, you know? The boss lady pays well and-"

His counterpart punched him in the arm. "Shut it, would ya?"

Mystic scowled internally; thugs like these were always the same. The first to push people around when armed and dangerous - the fastest to turn themselves in and beg when the tables turned. She knocked the pair of them to the floor, lifting from the ground with her psychokinetic powers and levitating in mid-air. There wouldn't be any mercy tonight. Not for any one of them, and especially their boss.

"Surrender, Blaze. Its over! Your lackeys are beat. Come out and repent for your crimes!"

"Spoken like a true goodie two-shoes," Blaze turned up her nose and scoffed. "Na. It ain't over yet, Princess. Tonight's just the beginning for Glenberry. All the rich folks who bought out this town? The celebrities and snobby fucks?! They're gonna pay... all of em!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

"You're welcome to stop me, Mystic. But you're forgetting one very important thing..."

"Such as?"

"It doesn't matter the fancy powers you have. All it takes is another night like tonight... and you're history. Act all tough; save a thousand stupid music fans. But the news anchors? They'll focus on the one that slipped through your fingers. When shit hits the fan you superheroes aren't so super after all. Same thing happened with Neutron - _even Dominatrix_. It's why they hung up their capes years ago."

The mention of Dominatrix (her mother's old hero name) caused a crack in Mystic's heroic facade. "Don't you talk about her!" With a furious yell she shorted out the screen in a burst of distorted Psychokinesis. Blaze's image was no more, but her haunting laughter continued over the public address system. Her voice bore deeper and deeper into the superhero's mind... under her skin, even. It left her feeling itchy and disgusting.

Every pair of eyes in the stadium were glued to their 'savior'. Whispers began circulating between concertgoers. Their expressions were filled with doubt and discontent. They saw her with scorn in their hearts; they judged her failure.

Mike was the worst of all - a gaping wound. He continued to cradle sweet Kyanna in his arms; his shirt smeared red by her innocent blood. He'd never been religious man - the girl behind Mystic's mask knew that well enough. And yet... he was praying. Begging some higher power for a hero's miracle.

His miracle had arrived far too late.

Police sirens blurred off in the distance. A bitter comfort. Backup fast-approached, having first left the heavy lifting to their resident hero.

Lots of concertgoers had brought out their phones. Pictures were being taken and messages sent. The arena was alive with alerts and ringtones.

Mystic felt the color draining from her face the longer she stayed to safeguard everyone. Her only protection against life-destroying misery was her mask.

Finally, a police SWAT team burst in through the east and west stands. A dozen voices submerged her thoughts.

_"GO GO GO!"_

_"Control, this is Vixen. The civilians are unharmed."_

_"-that sir. Omega in sight. Repeat, Omega in sight. Mystic is still here."_

_"We've got a woman down on the event stage. Repeat, woman down. Send a medical team; she's bleeding."_

Regular officers arrived on scene once the SWAT had everything in order. They got to quick work instructing frightened innocents and cuffing bad guys. Paramedics rushed in behind them. Two men carried a stretcher while their female co-worker ran toward the event stage with an overflowing doctor's bag. Still in shock, Mike couldn't take being separated from his gravely wounded sweetheart while they worked.

A pair of officers had to drag the star of the show off his own stage. He thrashed and spewed all manner of tearful ramblings while they hauled him away. "No! No! Y-You can't take her from me! I'm nothing without her... nothing... Let me stay with Kyanna... _I need her_!"

Unable to stomach her best friend's tormented cries, Mystic took to the sky. Her body supported by her powers, she shot through the open roof like a bullet. Friction hurt her skin. Slowing to ease the sting, she headed away from the stadium, mile after mile - uncaring of where she ended up. She kept on for minutes that felt like hours. Running low on the willpower needed to support an energy field, she scouted a place to rest. Physically and emotionally.

_I let you down... I let both of you down._

Burned out and sickly, she made a far from graceful landing in a grungy alleyway somewhere in Glenberry's notorious Downtown. The stink of rotting trash burned her throat and made her eyes water. Not that it mattered - those watery eyes of hers soon spilled tears of anguish. "If only I hadn't panicked... If only I'd hurried instead of- Instead of..." The lonesome gunshot rang through Mystic's thoughts. She pulled off her mask and clamped her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry Kyanna... I'm so sorry..."

She'd never failed to save the day before. How Ironic - the one time she fell short was when the lives of her friends rested in the balance.

* * *

Tiffany's alarm clock dragged her back to the waking world. Not that she cared to rise from her bed. With an exhausted groan she slung troublesome thing across the room with a jolt of psychokinetic. It thunked against the wall and stopped, probably broken.

Happy with the silence, she burrowed under the covers and hugged her knees to her chest.

All she wanted was to vanish from the world. As the honor student and as Mystic.

"Just leave me alone..."

A request her phone wouldn't allow, either. It'd been periodically vibrating on her bedside table since the concert attack last night.

She hadn't cared to check it. She hadn't cared to do anything - except sleep.

Hopefully if she slept for long enough she'd never wake up.

Uncaring of her misery, the phone kept vibrating. On and on it went.

Finally caving, Tiffany freed an arm from her blanket cocoon. Levitating her phone under the covers, she took it into both hands. The name on screen made her wish with every fibre of her being she'd hadn't. Her tummy squeezed and she felt sick all over again.

"Not you, anyone but you..."

_[Mikey calling...]_

Her finger edged toward the red 'Decline' button on the right-hand side of the screen.

 _No! What am I thinking?!_ She scolded herself in silence. It was her fault he was in this mess! "I can't just abandon him."

Dragging herself upright, Tiffany cleared her throat. She answered after a deep breath. "Hey Mikey..."

"...She's gone, Tiff. She didn't make it..." Her best friend's voice was hoarse and dry. "Nora stayed with her... _until the end_."

Mikey's news left Tiffany feeling frightfully numb. It was like she'd been yanked from her body and was floating like a ghost. The feeling didn't last; what Mikey said next made darn sure of it. "I figured I'd call... say goodbye too."

"What do you...?" Police sirens blurred over the line. A hefty lump clogged Tiffany's throat.

She fell out of bed and scooped up the television remote. Turning it on, she thumbed through to the local news channel. Her heart almost stopped. There he was - her best friend. He stood on the roof of his old West Drive apartment building with a phone pressed against his ear.

He still wore his blood-stained clothes from the night before.

Christie Carmine was there - reporting like the hawk she was; dressed in her snappy Channel Four blazer. _"We're live from Glenberry's West Drive-"_

Tiffany tuned out the broadcast, focused instead on the man in peril on the other end of the line. "Mikey please... I'm begging you, don't..." She darted for her discarded hero mask as she pleaded and slipped it on. As much as she hated it, Mystic was needed.

Unfortunately, her cracked and shaky voice did little to convince Mike. "...After all we went through... After all I gave up to be with her... What am I supposed to do now? How do I look her little boy in the eye? I-I can't. I'm not strong enough..."

"But you are. You're kind and gentle and talented."

"Cameras lie, Tiff. I'm a sell-out; I'm selfish, and I should've listened to Kyu." He paused and began climbing over over the safety railings. "Tell your mom she needs to quit smoking, alright? I always hated how she kept that up."

Without another word, Mike tossed the phone to the concrete below. If Mystic wasn't fast he'd soon follow.

And fast she was, faster than she'd ever been in her life. Wearing nothing but her shorts and vest top, Mystic started into a sprint and hurled herself from the bedroom window. Using sheer adrenaline, she zipped like a comet across the night sky in the direction of West Drive. "I'm on my way..."

Mike was already mid-fall when Mystic screamed onto the scene.

Fighting the painful burn of friction, she veered into his direct path.

Using an energy bubble, she suspended her target mid-air. The strain of supporting herself and another was immense, mostly because she hadn't eaten or drank anything substantial since lunchtime yesterday. Determined against the odds, she pushed through all the same. Her limbs felt heavy like they'd fall off. Her heartbeat had become frantic and painful. Inch by inch Mystic lifted herself and Mike to the rooftop.

Once he was safe she let him down. He flopped like a ragdoll heaved a weary breath.

Utterly spent, Mystic felt her strength fading. The field sustaining her body dissipated. Unable to maintain her somewhat improvised version of flight, she flaked out. When she came to, she was being held by the man she'd just saved. She gazed into his bewildered, tearful green eyes from behind her mask. "Why?" he asked her - his voice wrought with absolute agony. "Why save a deadbeat like me?"

"Because-" Mystic wheezed, so worn-out she could hardly talk. "... _I couldn't_ -" She paused, wanting to lie so badly. It would've been easy to tout the usual, 'It's what a hero does', line. The same one she gave to the news networks time and again. Mike deserved better - he deserved more. Even if he'd hate her for it. "...Unmask me. I deserve it for letting you down."

Even neck-deep in depression, Mike hesitated and shook his head. "Not gonna happen..."

The whole world knew the gravity of unmasking a hero. Politicians made careers of it. For good or ill, it wasn't something taken lightly. A news copter buzzed overhead and would record the historic moment for the world to see. Mystic would become Tiffany and the same in reverse. She would be accountable for every good deed and likewise, every failing. She'd finally be free of her double-life.

"Why not?" Mystic clung tightly to Mike's biceps and sat upright in his lap. Desperate for release, she stared through the eyeholes in her mask; her hands shook. "I turned up too late. I'm to blame for all of thi-"

Mike silenced her with a finger against the lips. "I said no. Kyanna- She adored you guys, same for my cousin. You, Dominatrix back in the day; Sapphire too." Empty of hate, he held Mystic against his chest. Both she and the girl behind the mask were overwhelmed. "The last thing Glenberry needs is you unmasked and thrown on the Omega Register."

"I-I don't know if I can keep going..."

"Don't doubt yourself. Fight on, Mystic. A friend of mine... tried to talk me outta this; said I was kind and talented. If she met you she'd say the same."

Lost for words, Mystic brought her arms around Mike's middle. She hugged him with the strength she had left.

This was Tiffany's life. Two sides. Two faces. Two masks.

"I'll do my best..." And for the sake of Kyanna and Mike she'd keep on going. "Thank you, Mikey." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. The singer was left surprised by her sudden move. She answered him with a fragile but hopeful smile. "I've always been your biggest fan."

The rooftop door swung open and a pair of officers barged onto the scene. Waving Mike goodbye, Mystic took to the air.

She'd spend a few days as Tiffany, to mourn Kyanna and comfort Mike. And then she'd return to the role of Mystic.

A hero's job was never done.

**To be continued...**


	2. Issue II (Healing)

Two weeks spent wondering - two weeks spent shaken to the ground with endless questions. Rain hammered the earth without care nor consideration, while angry grey clouds overhead threatened a thunderstorm. The cemetery was a mire of mud and misery.

Mystic had hung up her cape in honor of wishing Kyanna farewell. But saying goodbye was never easy.

As far from a hero as ever, Tiffany had cried and cried during the funeral service. Not since losing granny had she felt downright crushed. She and Kyanna had always been close, ever since their first meeting at the hair salon. A day to remember. A day to cherish.

There had been lots of blurry-eyed farewells from friends and family throughout the morning eulogies.

But a not word from the person poor Kyanna had cherished most of all in life aside little Philly.

Or a frown. Or a smile. Not a flinch nor a whisper. Nothing.

Mike Winters was one of the most emotionally expressive men Tiffany knew by far; it was why she loved him to pieces. His every action since they were little had been guided by a large but sometimes wayward heart. And today? He was stoic and motionless like the mayor's statue in town square.

Having directed the proceedings with care and consideration, the priest finished his rite. "Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."

Tiffany clamped a palm over her chest while the coffin lowered into the ground. "I'll keep everyone you love safe. Pinky promise."

Mystic would have her work cut out for her come tomorrow. The petty crooks and no-good villains menacing Glenberry's streets were going to come face-to-face with the superhero like never before. A woman on a mission - to clean up for good. First the lowlifes. Then Blaze.

A backward step. And another. Tiffany averted her eyes as earth was shovelled onto the casket.

Parked away from the graves over a gravel pathway was a Kane Industries limo, jet-black and likely bulletproof. A limo Mike hadn't strayed far from all morning. Beside him was his manager and college buddy, Markus - son to Glenberry's local governor and biggest businessman. The two were guarded by at least five men in suits with flashing earpieces. Markus himself had a large handgun holstered at the hip of his tailored trousers.

A decision not without a few disgusted stares upon his arrival. At least he'd been considerate enough to disarm whilst inside the church.

Tiffany approached the entourage, her path quickly barred by a member of the security detail - a gruff man around his forties (at a guess) with a combed greyish-brown beard "Sorry, Miss. I can't let you past. Mister Kane is representing the governor in an official capacity."

The honor student's tummy turned. "...At a funeral?" Her voice a shallow whisper, Tiffany backed up. Even if she were able to use her powers, she wouldn't have dreamed of doing it here. Out or respect for everyone attending. "Don't tell me you're serious."

"Sorry, Miss. The safety of Mister Kane and his guest are my top priority."

"Let her through," came Mike's voice from beyond the man. "She's important to me." A tiny but precious relief to Tiffany's anxious nerves.

The guard turned around, awaiting confirmation instead from his boss. "Mister Kane?"

A short nod from Mike's well-dressed friend. "Stand aside, if you'd be so kind. Miss Maye has known Mike far longer than me." Instruction delivered, Markus brought out a lighter and packet of cigarettes from his jacket's breast pocket. "We've no need for a commotion." Lighting a smoke, he repositioned under another guard's umbrella by the front of the car. A frail smile given, he took a drag.

Tiffany proceeded past, leaning against the limo's middle passenger-side door, beside Mike. She touched her hand to his. An offering which saw their fingers joined. He squeezed. She returned the gesture, treasuring the relief of another. "...Hang in there, alright?"

"I'll be fine," the musician answered, his voice empty of feeling. "Had two weeks to get ready."

"Will you, though?" Tiffany stalled, her grip tightening as she fought further tears. For the both of them. "... _I know you_."

A pause. Mike's eyes lowered, fixated on his muddy dress shoes. He was still hollow of passion, or anything for that matter. "...What do you expect me to say, Tiff?" His line of sight shifted to the other mourners down the hill - a sentinel. "We shouldn't be here, like this." His voice was razor sharp, hateful. "We shouldn't be digging her a hole in the damn ground. Not now, when she's finally become a star."

Tiffany's throat clenched, her eyes burning in contrast to the icy rain. "If only I'd done something..."

"Hey, hey..." His edge softening, Mike welcomed the wounded heroine into his arms. His hug was genuine, even if Tiffany knew his uncaring facade wasn't. "People like us aren't made for stuff like that. It's hero work; for people like Mystic. It's out of our control."

Her walls collapsing, Tiffany bawled, burying her face against Mike's shirt.

The rainfall turning to a deluge, he cradled her for dear life. The comfort she needed - a source of strength. "C'mon now. Breathe deep. I've got you."

It had been Mystic's job to remain strong for so long. Just this once the girl behind the mask needed someone to look after her. No. Not just anyone. She needed her best friend. His warmth. His calming voice. The scent of his cologne. Something, anything to soothe the pain.

Two weeks prior she'd saved Mike's life. His parting words had invigorated her. _"Don't doubt yourself. Fight on, Mystic. A friend of mine... tried to talk me outta this; said I was kind and talented. If she met you she'd say the same."_

But today... Mystic wasn't here. The scared little girl was alone, isolated from heroic duties and powers alike.

Feet crunched over wet gravel, catching Tiffany's attention. Through blurry eyes she saw the chauffer opening the nearest passenger door.

The service was coming to a close, people dispersing along the cemetery pathways. Everyone except Kyanna's older cousin Nora, who was kneeled in prayer beside the freshly covered grave. Tiffany retreated into the safety of Mike's embrace a second time, further shaken.

"...You're too calm, Mike," she whimpered, her fingers digging into his waist. "It's scaring me."

"I said goodbye at the funeral home, before the Hurst rolled up," he breathed stiffly. "And I told the therapist I'm done crying."

"Winters," came Markus well-spoken flare from behind. Tiffany held on regardless. "We're prepared to depart. Would you like a few minutes more?"

"...I'm done here."

"Very well." Even Markus (the very picture of reserved) sounded concerned. "But only so long as you are certain."

"Not like I can bring her back." Mike held onto Tiffany just a little bit tighter, a hint of expression if nothing else.

"An unfortunate reality, yes... Fine then. Where shall I have the driver stop for you? The airport?"

"No thanks. I can't pester you like that. It's a little too far."

"Nonsense, Winters. Do you not have a flight booked? I'd be happy to reserve a seat for you on one of our business charters."

"There's no need, Mark. I auctioned the house upstate; gave the cash to Nora. She'll need it for Philly." There came a thoughtful pause. Mike freed up a hand, delving into his coat's inside pocket. He brought out a faded metal keyring shaped like a musical note. A keyring Tiffany hadn't seen too long. "West Drive. Take me to West Drive; to the old apartment. I'll stay in town a little while longer. Just don't tell the press," he finished quietly.

"Very good. And you, Miss Maye?"

Tiffany eased free of Mike, wiping her eyes in vain. "You don't need to go out of your way for me," she sniffled, hugging her arms around her waterlogged middle and shivering from the cold. While powerful Omega healed faster and were privy to slightly longer lifespans, very few resisted the weather. "I can make it to the bus stop just fine. It's only a short walk to U.O.G from there."

Or she'd duck into Nutmeg for a coffee until it got dark and levitate home later.

A raised brow from the prodigal son. "Are you certain? With all due respect, you're wet through."

Mike patted Tiffany's shoulder, the corners of his mouth lifting into his first smile of the day. It thawed her sorrowful mood a tiny bit. "Don't be silly, Tiff. C'mon... Stop by my place until the rain eases, get dried off."

An offer she wasn't about to refuse. "Alright," Tiffany found herself smiling too, even amidst the hurt. "I'd like that."

In truth, she was scared to be alone. She and Mystic were an ocean apart today. Being superhuman had a nasty habit of making a girl's powerless moments twice as hurtful. Invited into the car, Miss Maye sat with Mike and clung to his drenched suit arm.

Once everyone was buckled up and the doors were closed, one of the security handed out towels. "Told you we'd need them, sir."

Markus spared a short chuckle. "You say it as though my father could not afford to have the upholstery cleaned." The beginnings of a smile showed through, subtle enough to miss at a blink. "And to be quite frank with you, I could care less about the state in which we leave his property. My thanks, however."

The towel was passed regardless, the guard sitting next to Markus. "You and the old man are still getting along, I see."

"Things are as ever the same, Claudian. Relinquishing my future position as director remains the most liberating day of my life."

"Taking a stand for the Omega, huh? Can't say I blame you. My cousin's a Class Two, off the record and all."

It turned out the whisperings between freelance journalist circles were true after all. The younger Kane and his dad didn't get along. Sad but relatable.

Still... it was good to know one of Glenberry's most influential twenty-somethings was an Omega supporter.

The ignition whirred, the car's engine coming to life with a low rumble.

Tiffany's watched the tiny water droplets sliding down the window as they started along the path. Each one was so pretty and yet so fragile.

* * *

The black dress she'd worn to Kyanna's service was drenched through. It wouldn't be coming off the radiator for a while. All day at least.

Mike's West Drive apartment held a special place in Tiffany's heart. She'd spent plenty of time there after the two of them regained contact. It was sleek and ultra-modern, a pad far too upmarket for its down-to-earth owner, especially before his rise to fame. A gift paid for with money left behind by Mike's sadly departed mother Angela - a well-loved violinist taken from the world too soon. A sad truth he'd been all too open about.

Regardless of the origins, it made for a calming retreat after hectic days in stuffy lecture halls.

Even if today's visit was both sadly overdue and poorly timed.

Finished washing her face, Tiffany turned off the faucet. A pat of the towel dried her skin. Mike and Markus were still chatting in the lounge, the latter having been invited up for a quick drink before he'd have to rush off with security. Official business and all.

The duo's voices carried from the lounge, partly muffled by the door.

" _..._ like you asked for _,"_ Markus' spoke.

"-be just fine," Mike replied.

Tiffany tuned out the boys, making a short backward step to better size up her clothes. It never felt weird borrowing a pair of Mike's old sweatpants, or one of his overly baggy vest tops. Being so close to one-another made lending a top and some joggers here and there quite natural to the secret hero. It was that way right up until their separation at age ten, and the same now. Even if their being forced apart still stung.

Worse, Mike's uncle cutting ties was a large reason Jessie gave up the skin-tight cat suit of Dominatrix for more... questionable work.

An irritated shiver beneath Tiffany's skin. "...Why am I dwelling on mom again?"

It was hardly the time. Tempers were flaring across town and one of her dearest friends had just been buried.

A deep breath in and out calmed the blonde. "Be strong. Be positive."

Just short of leaving the bathroom, the apartment's front door squeaked open and thumped shut. Freshened up and in the right mindset for company, Tiffany returned into the lounge. The place was empty of men in suits - save Mike, who now had a small brown cardboard box tucked under his arm.

Tiffany joined him by the kitchen counter. "It's far more spacious all of the sudden. Did Mark leave?"

"Just now, yeah. Guards and all. Those fitting alright?"

"Yep, thank you. Little baggy, though." A pinch and pull of the fabric showed its looseness. Any other guy seeing her bra straps would've been a real bother. Not this one. The singer's once troubled love life had never breached their unbreakable friendship.

Though she'd hoped a kiss or two might someday breach the barrier.

Only once so far. A clumsy but heated smooch while bundling the sloshed musician into a cab. A smooch he didn't remember after sobering up.

Tiffany's eyes shifted to the cardboard box under Mike's arm. She couldn't let herself get all hot under the collar. "A present?"

"From Mark. Something to help me through this," he replied thinly, a finger pointed toward the bedroom door. "I'm going to change and put this somewhere safe." A shake of the box left few lines of thought as to the contents. There was no rattle of loose objects or the tell-tale clink of glass. It was too small for alcohol, Tiffany imagined. "Get comfy if you want, choose a movie. I won't be long."

A movie it was - something cheerful. Maybe a musical; they worked wonders at chasing off the gloom.

Plopping down on the couch, Tiffany collected the remote from the dust-laden coffee table. A flick of the 'on' button saw the channel hopping begin. Along with an impulse to check current events - to be Mystic for a second. She thumbed through the channels to Glenberry News, unsurprised to see Christie Carmine outside of city hall. A gaggle of sign waving protesters behind her, she was already partway through a report.

"-the scene outside as the tenth day of organized rallies against Omega villain 'Blaze' continue. Local governor, Joseph Kane has pledged support to the Omega Registration Bill, which would see any Omega Positive individual within the state above Class Three required to submit their public identity to a federal database. The bill continues to be met with scrutiny from human right's experts, with even Governor Kane's own son Markus voicing his displeasure. I've been Christine Carmine with Glenberry News. More on this story as it unfolds."

Discussions from local government had been all over the airwaves since the concert incident.

Ashamed, Tiffany hugged her knees to her chest. "I could've prevented all of this."

She heard Mike emerge from his bedroom with a squeak of the door. "Not a good idea there, Miss Carmine," he cautioned, having heard the report. Stepping around the couch, the peroxide blonde flopped against the leather, a glass of something strong and golden in hand. _Probably whiskey_. Sporting shorts; an oversized band tee and half-wet hair, he was the total reverse of cool and in control.

It was just how Tiffany preferred him at times like these. The showman had his place and all, being able to sway the hearts of thousands at a word. But the Mike behind the cameras was the special one. The soft-spoken and laid-back friend - a guy worth fighting for against the odds. A person to depend on when her heart was patched up with Band-Aids.

A hard question needed to be asked, especially in light of recent events. A topic they'd never covered when younger.

"What do you think of the Omega, Mike?"

The vocalist sipped his drink. Stalling hard, he set the glass down next to the discarded remote.

"Depends on who you're asking."

Tiffany's tummy knotted. She's opened Pandora's Box; she just knew it. "...What's that supposed to mean?"

"On who you're asking," Mike repeated. Glass to the lips, his sips became a gulps until only ice was left.

Placated by alcohol's burn, he kept on. "Me before the attack. Or afterward."

"I'll take either. I'm not picky."

A soft chuckle from her best friend. "When are you ever? Alright..." Scoffing at the news, Mike set aside his empty glass. Hands clasped together tightly, he shut his eyes. "Before the attack I would've said the powerful ones needed tagging. After the other day..." Silence fell, his fingers knotting even tighter. "...I'd say the registration program's bullshit." Eyes open again, he grabbed the remote and flicked over to the classical music channel. "Too many bad guys... not enough good ones. The pencil-pushers can't stop them. Think of those gun nuts you see all the time."

"Like Mark?" Tiffany teased, if only to lighten the mood.

It earned her a tiny snort from Mike. "Be nice."

"Okay, okay. You were saying?"

"The gun nuts always talk about the same thing. 'You need a gun to fight a gun.' But with Omega it's different. They're different."

Being called 'different' so ominously caused Tiffany a nervous shudder. "In a good way... or a bad one?"

"A good one. We need Omega. If some stuffy suit tags all the good one's then who's going to fight the bad ones?"

The relief was powerful. Tiffany would've shed a tear then and there if she hadn't cried enough already. "The police?" She kept with the civilian line.

"Not for me, thanks Tiff. I'd rather trust Sapphire. Mystic. Hell, bring Dominatrix out of retirement."

Heart aflutter, she shuffled closer to Mike. Part of her wanted to rid herself of the secret and be done with it - to finally tell another soul about the other side. "It's good you feel that way, because..." A second. Two. Three. Ten. The words wouldn't come. She grabbed Mike's arm for support, ever thankful for their closer than close friendship. Her face was red-hot with fear. "Because..."

"Because I met her, right? Mystic I mean." Voice heavy with regret, Mike unthreaded their arms and scooted down the couch.

Derailed (and thankfully so) Tiffany thanked her lucky stars. "Right." Revealing herself wasn't a good idea. Glenberry was a mess thanks to Blaze and her goons. There hadn't been a such a large public attack years. The city cried out for a protector above all else. "Because of her."

And judging by his pitiful expression, Mike needed one too.

Tiffany reached out - a caring gesture guided by the bittersweet aching in her chest. "...You wanna talk?"

"About what?"

" _The roof._ Our call that night scared the heck out of me." Being there was even worse. If she'd blasted through the sky second slower...

"Maybe later." Her concern deflected, Mike rose from the couch and began toward the kitchen.

Tiffany traced his gaze to the open (and almost full) liquor bottle sitting of the counter. A bottle he didn't need today of all days. Worried, she caught a hold of his wrist as he passed. "No more." A heartfelt plea. "Settle down. Now's not the time for vices; you drink like my mom."

"Alight..." Request obliged, he held off from what would've been the first refill of many. "But only because it's you asking."

There it was - the weight behind his words - the emotion. It'd been almost absent throughout the funeral, and had only tinged his voice once or twice since arriving at the apartment. As painful as it sounded, Tiffany was relieved.

Relinquishing the glass, Mike sat back down. Shoulders slumped and his expression distant, he looked thoughtfully into his open palms. "...You won't take notes, will you?" he laughed limply. "Not sure I can cope with another nosy doctor, like at the evaluation."

A painful ordeal for the strong-willed and charismatic musician, no doubt. After the near brush with death he'd been admitted to hospital overnight for check-ups, and forced to see a psychologist before being discharged. The 'event' meant big viewership numbers the media - one they'd covered in brutal detail. Mike's life was flooded with cameras and smartphone waving fans since he'd reached full-fledged celebrity status.

"Nope," Tiffany held an open palm over her chest. She felt for him, truly and deeply. At least she could hide once the costume was hung up in her closet. It was a different type of stardom. Unconventional. Unapproachable. Fraught with danger. "Cross my heart."

"Then we're all good. I guess I could open up, a little."

Grateful to have finally broken through, Tiffany rubbed his back. A showing of support. "Just relax. I'm here for you, listening like an eager beaver."

Being able to help as a regular girl was a treat.

The usual meetings with Nikki over coffee quickly devolved into quiet whispers in the corner booth. Hero work. Those sorts of conversations didn't carry in public at regular volume. Maniacs and villains made poor brunch topics - the sorts to turn drinks cold and leave blueberry muffins tasting stale.

Mike relaxed into the couch, hands sat in his lap. He inhaled and exhaled, his glassy gaze meeting cobweb-covered ceiling. "It's been seventeen days, and I'm still half numb. Seventeen days since I lost her, and seventeen days dwelling on all of it. Kinda fucked up, actually. There are only two girls I've ever fallen for in my life, seriously I mean. I'm down to one after Blaze's stunt..."

There came a pause, his hostility melting. "And Mystic..." He smiled, the brightest Tiffany had seen all day. "I'm glad she saved me."

An appraisal from the heart, Tiffany could tell. Overwhelmed with joy (and just a hint of pride) her body shuddered. "...I'll bet she's happy she saved you, too. Being a hero isn't easy." The urge to confess resurfaced. If only so she could throw her arms around and those strong shoulders of his and tell the whole truth. Just like Mom once tried revealing her identity to Mike's Uncle James almost ten years ago.

Emerging from his leathery embrace, Mike was alive with curiosity. "Talking like you know one there, Tiff."

"Pardon?" At first she didn't catch his meaning, until everything clicked at once. "I erm..." Tiffany clammed up. Flustered, she realized the slip. "I-I mean... I bet it's a real chore. A-All those powers. The police depending on you, and Christie Carmine covering every little story." A less than graceful cover, one she hoped would pass undetected. If this were another Omega she would've been finished.

A moment's silence. Another. And another. Her ears rang, a tension headache building.

Unaware of just how close he'd gotten, Mike's smirk widened to a Cheshire cat grin. "Christie Carmine... Woman's a damn tryhard. I'll bet she's an Omega. I'm telling you, she has to be! How else does someone get around so fast? My guess? Super speed."

Crisis averted, Tiffany sighed internally. _Better be careful next time._

And a guess not too far from the truth, all things considered.

Miss Carmine had very minor powers in the form of nearly limitless stamina - an Omega Class One according to the official scale used by government. The awful one to ten chart with 'threat level' labels in line with differing degrees of local and national intervention. A titbit she'd shared during an interview with Mystic last year. A 'we're both the same' moment to coax hers interviewees into opening up about the highs and lows of superhero life.

The same tactic she'd tried on Nikki with little success.

"Tiffany," Mike spoke up, sounding far more enthusiastic. His not addressing her by the usual nickname meant something serious waited up ahead. She'd been 'Tiff' since age six. Tiff when they parted ways, and Tiff when they reunited on the O.U.G football field at nineteen and twenty-one respectively. "I've made up my mind, about where I go from here."

"You have?" Chipper and cheerful as she could manage, the honor student shuffled close.

"Right," Mike nodded. "Kyanna deserved better. Not just with what happened at the concert... _but a better me_." There was guilt in his eyes all of the sudden. "She loved the hell out of me, and between us... I never appreciated her enough. Not until Blaze's gimp pulled the trigger."

A revelation only Tiffany could believe, because she knew the adoring fans wouldn't.

Away from the stage lights and crowds Mike had always been troubled. And half the time she'd been there to rescue him. Over and over. A choice she'd never once regretted. Because she loved him, and she could relate to him, especially since he'd found fame.

In their own ways, both of them wore masks.

"You're trying to tell me something, it's obvious." The gnarled up expression said more than words ever could.

"Last year. Right before Mine and Kyanna's big break. The night of our screaming match outside Lusties. You remember..."

It was impossible not to. Their big break almost never happened because of a near breakup. Half of Lusties must have seen it, while the rest of town would've heard it. The bouncers got involved, too. Mostly to stop Kyanna beating Mike's butt. "The fight, or what happened afterward?"

"Afterward... when Audrey and me went downtown. When we-"

Tiffany cleared her throat loudly. "You made a mistake, Mike. A big, stupid mistake." Audrey had shared the story in gruesome detail over cocktails the following week. It made her jealous enough, and the green-eyed monster wasn't a side any self-respecting hero entertained.

"Doesn't mean I'm proud, especially now."

"But Kyanna forgave you."

" _Because of you_. I swear, you were like some kind of superhero that day. She would've packed up her stuff and left if you hadn't come over."

The single most stressful day of her normal life, a day that nearly cost her two close friends.

Calming a raging Kyanna proved worse than anything Mystic had encountered until the recent tragedy.

Convinced her childhood companion had done something idiotic while out of his right mind, Tiffany rushed over to this very apartment while Kyanna was throwing clothes into boxes and packing Philly's toys. She saved the day in a nick of time, for everyone but the cab driver waiting outside for the single mother. "I didn't do anything, not really. I just pointed out how much she meant to you, and you to her. The two of you were made for each other."

"And Audrey...? How the hell did you calm her down? I never asked after all this time."

The uncomfortable half of the encounter. The redhead was convinced after the passionate hotel tumble she'd scored a boyfriend - her first meaningful boyfriend. Tiffany told her otherwise, and it wasn't easy. "It was weird. For months she kept talking about getting even. Then she just... let it go."

"I wish I could've apologized to her. I know she cared, in a messed up 'Audrey' way."

"More than you realize. That night was serious to her; not just the usual pickup."

"And that right there is why I've made up my mind," Mike said resolutely, holding Tiffany's hand for encouragement. "I'm not perfect, never have been. But Glenberry's in a bad way, it has been for months. So I'll make a difference, somehow. Not sure how yet, but I will. Wish I was a hero..."

Head laid against his shoulder, Tiffany giggled. _If only you knew._

"What's so funny?"

"Just like when we were kids. You had all those posters on your wall." A wall Tiffany remembered vividly. All the heavy hitters were there. Razor. Tripwire. Casanova. Even Dominatrix, much to mom's delight. "And besides, you're not an Omega." And thank goodness he wasn't.

"I could become one."

"It's all genes, silly. Remember first grade science class? You're _born_ into it."

"Who knows?" he winked. "I could've been one all along. The world's best kept secret."

"Very funny." There was no harm playing along. Revealing the truth as a joke was the closest Tiffany would ever get. "Next you'll be calling me an Omega." She snapped her fingers, an idea sparking to life. "I know! Why not host a charity concert? If you're lucky Mystic might show up."

"I doubt it," Mike replied glumly, shaking his head. "My skydiving incident definitely punched a hole in her 'save the day' schedule."

"Oh I wouldn't go _that_ far. Heroes save people; it's what they do. Somehow, I bet she likes you."

"Thanks, Tiff." Warmed by her words, Mike offered a hug with open arms. "You want to stay for the day? If you're not busy or anything."

"I'd love to, so long as you'll have me." Tiffany welcomed his closeness, a pleasant reminder of being little. "Feel like sharing a pizza?"

"Can't turn down pizza, my treat though." Mike brought out his wallet.

The pair exchanged a knowing glance.

"Pepperoni?" asked Tiffany.

"With extra cheese," the musician followed.

As close as days gone by, the two snuggled together.

Food on the mind (thanks to a grumbling tummy) Tiffany passed her phone.

A glance at the clock in the corner of the television screen showed it was barely past three in the afternoon. The day was still young, a day to enjoy in Kyanna's memory, just like she would've wanted. No more sadness and no more frowns.

Tomorrow meant a return to a frantic life of studies by day and battling bad guys by night.

But it didn't mean today wasn't worth enjoying. Tiffany was alive, healthy, and as happy as current circumstances allowed.

And she couldn't have asked for anything more.

**To be continued...**


	3. Issue III (Heist)

"That'll be twelve dollars, Tiffany." The barista smiled. "Cash or credit?"

"Credit."

The card reader was scooted over. "When you're ready."

Tiffany tapped her card. "There you go."

Granted the ping of a successful transaction, the tray was inched across the counter.

A well-deserved hot drink awaited.

Another two weeks had provided plenty to mull over. It seemed as though life was returning to normality at long last.

There had been no news of Blaze or her gang of suit-wearing goons since the concert incident. Which had allowed for Tiffany's full-fledged return to university. She found solace and familiarity academic setting - even if the cram classes were a bit hectic.

Today was the first time she'd worn her signature school uniform since the attack - outside of Mystic's quirky variation.

Mike had been (and still was) equally busy. He'd spent the last few days in and out of the recording studio; working on some super top-secret project between visits to the therapist. A project he'd yet to spill much info about aside the occasional teaser.

Even Nikki was out and about - having ventured from the citadel that was her apartment especially for a Nutmeg brunch meetup.

Not a morning person by any means, the blue-haired introvert treated the corner booth like a sanctuary against the chatty soccer moms and study groups who inhabited the coffee shop at this hour. Tiffany could tell plenty from the small but fed-up frown on her close friend's face.

The dark rings beneath her eyes were pretty telling, too.

"Didn't sleep well?" Tiffany asked in a comforting tone, setting down her steaming cup of expresso.

Embracing her hoodie-clad middle, Nikki grumbled. "...I'm fine. But Sapphire's been working her ass off." An admission made at a far lower volume, for obvious reasons. Pushing aside her plate with a half-finished croissant, Nikki sank into the booth cushions with a deep exhale. "Suits from the Office of Omega Control are snooping. Make's my life far harder. Makes everyone's lives way harder than they need be."

Tiffany heartbeat rose anxiously at the mere mention of the dreaded government office, her smile wiped away. The rest of their brunch would need to be conducted in whispers. "I'd heard... Mom called and warned ahead." Eying the gloomy reflection within her coffee's milky swirl, the blonde stirred with a spoon. Her hand was shaky. "Figures they would... after what happened last month."

The most important question had yet to be asked. And Tiffany dreaded being the one to ask it. Braced emotionally, she prepared for the worst. The O.O.C guys were hardly fine company. Not that she'd met one. Mom had once. The stories were enough. "How many of them? Any ideas?"

"Probably two." Nikki replied flatly, taking a messy bite of croissant. "Lower profile that way," she continued between chews, a hand covering her mouth out of consideration. "Less chance of them being picked out. You know the drill."

Tiffany sipped her drink - a wave of relief easing her tensed shoulders. "I'm glad. Two I can work with." Two she could avoid. Especially with improvised flight and an entire city to hide in. Scanners worked in extremely specific situations; only at very close ranges. Weaker Omega didn't even set them off.

"Don't be so sure," Nikki cautioned, side-eying the customers nearest from their booth's protection. Tiffany followed her thoughtful gaze.

It seemed they were busy with their happenings and drama - the two soccer mom's gossiping about little Johnny's recent falling out with a friend in second grade. A trivial day-to-day life Tiffany sometimes wished she had for herself. A steady job. A reliable partner, probably a fellow Omega. And maybe a couple of children - give or take ten years. A life where Mystic's costume came out of the closet in emergencies.

Convinced nobody was listening in, Nikki leaned across the table. Her eyes narrowed a hint. "Be careful, alright? My source inside the cops says they're running the place; that they're about to come down really hard on the first Omega to act out. Governor Kane's orders."

Tiffany frowned.

The news couldn't have come at a worse time for Glenberry's most recognized Omega. "Markus' dad? You're sure?"

"A hundred percent," Nikki confirmed. "I hear he's pushing the Registration Bill even harder."

Tiffany exhaled glumly, wishing she'd stayed in bed all of the sudden. "This is too much."

Fearmongering. Protests. Government threats. All of it needed to stop. A pair of squad cars sped past the window with sirens blurring, causing her to flinch. Frantic as a cat paddling deep water, the blonde clutched her chest to monitor her racing heartbeat.

_Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud._

Retreating to her side of the booth, Nikki looked on worriedly. "Someone needs to lay off the expresso."

"Maybe I do." Tiffany gulped down her caffeine jolt all the same, the heat burning her throat. She'd need it to get through her noon lecture. Math wasn't her strongest suit by any means. "But I can't help feeling nervous. Aren't you? The whole town's going crazy..."

A shake of the head from her reclusive friend. "Na," she dismissed. "No need to be with powers like mine. Untraceable." A sparkle of quiet thrill behind her sleepy blue eyes, Nikki held her left-hand forefinger and thumb together. Prepared to snap, she deferred to the blonde's judgement. "Can I?" There was quiet excitement to her voice - the height of expression for usually reserved Anne-Marie. "C'mon..." She encouraged further. "Just once."

Excitement precious enough to make Tiffany giggle - welcome positivity. "Sure thing." she permitted with a soft smile. "But only twenty seconds."

"Awesome." Nikki straightened her back; sitting upright. "Alright." Closing her eyes and opening them again, she steadied her breaths. In and out. In and out. And again. Four. Five. Six times. "...Three. Two. One..." The girl snapped her fingers loudly. " _Stop_."

A wave of distortion burst from the blue-haired girl's hand, sweeping over the world. Reality wobbled - a ripple within a puddle.

Tiffany stood from the booth to look around - always thrilled by the magnitude of her friend's power.

Everything and anything had drained of color and was a noire-style shade of black and white - like something out of the old movies granny used to watch. Nutmeg's patrons were frozen like statues. Some were in the middle of enjoying drinks while others articulated their conversations with hand gestures - on pause. Where there had been chatter and background noise there was near-perfect silence.

Silence broken only by a clock's subtle ticking at the back of the mind - a sound as unusually natural as breathing.

Tiffany sat again - keeping a close eye on her Omega friend.

A look of extreme focus present, Nikki had brought out faded silver trinket from her hoodie's front pocket and flicked up its face - a pocket watch. A gift from her dad before moving out, the blonde had been told. Fixated upon the timepiece with extreme focus, Anne-Marie managed her breathing as though her life depended on it; which Tiffany knew it did while maintaining a state of total suspension.

"Ten seconds." Nikki spoke hurriedly, her forehead glistening with sweat. She huffed and puffed - the strain appearing close to labour pains.

"Be careful," Tiffany cautioned, having taken to counting the remaining time for safety's sake.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

Negative one.

Negative two.

Negative three.

Tiffany was ready to snatch the pocket watch from Nikki in protest. She was going for thirty seconds!

Fearful, the honor student readied the scolding of a lifetime. "...Careful!"

The world regained its colors - its sounds and motions with them. Nutmeg's patrons resumed, the 'play' button pressed.

Nikki wheezed and flopped against the booth cushions. Her entire body quaking, she collected an inhaler from her hoodie's pocket and popped the cap. Holding it between pursed lips with jittering hands, she inhaled as best she could. Her breaths were thin whistles; her face washed-out and her eyes cloudy.

If Tiffany had known her friend planned on being so stupid she wouldn't have okayed the vapid showing of power. A mother telling off her naughty child, she levelled an almighty glare. "Would you stop testing how long you can hold it?" Her voice cracked, clenched fists banging the table. She'd lost one friend in the past month. She didn't need to lose another. "You know what happens when you suspend large groups."

Nikki shrank into the corner - instantly apologetic. "I'll be more careful..."

"Everyone be quiet!" One of the baristas erupted from behind the counter.

Tiffany turned her head.

Nikki's co-worker upped the volume of the cafe's wall-mounted flat screen with a few hasty presses of the remote. "There's trouble at the bank."

Mystic took control in an instant. Shooting up, the heroine repositioned beside Nikki to better examine the situation without craning her neck.

A news bulletin was playing out. From Christie Carmine - the bringer of all things bad news as of late.

She was reporting from outside Glenberry General Finance; red blazer and all.

Behind her a pair of police cars flashed their lights and screamed their sirens. Probably the same cars Tiffany had seen zipping past a few minutes earlier. Officers rushed in and out of frame, barking instructions between themselves and a cluster of curious and panicked onlookers.

_"Good afternoon, Glenberry. This is Christie Carmine, live outside of the General Finance Bank amidst this shocking unfolding of events. Heavily armed thugs in striking red three-piece suits have flooded into the building and taken over the ground floor. Law enforcement are at present responding to another incident in the Uptown Bridge area and are stretched thin."_

The call to action. English Literature would have to wait until Thursday.

Tiffany stepped out from the booth, ready to rush and collect her backpack from its hiding place in the bathroom stall and do what had to be done. Glenberry needed a hero - and she needed a hero now. Eyes ahead, the heroine readied to run for it. With everyone watching T.V there wouldn't be an issue.

Nikki grabbed her wrist, forcing her to pause.

"I'll go." the bespectacled girl whispered, rising to support herself on shaky legs.

"Not happening." Tiffany's objection was outright. "You're not up to it."

"I can manage."

A second motherly stare saw Nikki plant her butt firmly in her seat. While far more powerful on the Class Scale, her powers were far better suited to different tasks. Investigation especially. That and she wasn't much of a fighter; she never had been. Dealing with armed criminals - the biggest threats to innocent life; demanded an extremely direct approach. The sort of approach Mystic had become sadly well versed-in.

"I'll go, Anne-Marie." Tiffany winked. "Trust me."

There was a second motive beyond concern. She had only encountered thugs in red suits once before.

"You sure?" asked Nikki.

"Totally. Leave it to me."

There came the roar of a motorbike's engine, nutmeg's patrons crowding around the television. Tiffany again looked to the report - drawn to the sudden sound. She stepped a bit closer to get a better look. A chorus of drum and bass EDM blurred from somewhere off screen. From behind Christie a bike careened over the police blockade and sailed through the bank's front windows. Glass went everywhere, showering the street outside in a jagged hail.

There was stunned silence from all. Five seconds. Ten seconds. All the while the EDM was blasting from inside General Finance. Tiffany was on fixated the lyrics. And the voice. Mike... it was Mike! Somebody had sampled lyrics from one of his songs.

And not just any song. Daredevil. Her favorite track from the solo album before him and Kyanna became a power couple.

" _You've gotta keep on fighting. You always overthink it; that's what you do, baby."_

Tiffany's stomach turned. The seconds ticked onward with horrible stiffness.

Snowflakes were falling outside of the bank; Christie brushing one off the shoulder of her blazer and blinking in confusion. A beyond strange happening considering it was early June. Just yesterday the temperature had peaked at almost ninety. And it hadn't gotten any lower than seventy for over a week.

_"If the world's against you then just move it, baby. Stand tall and proud and work it out."_

The weather and the unexpected turn of events left Tiffany wondering what in the world was going on.

There were only three active 'good guy' Omega in Glenberry at present. Herself. Sapphire - investigator extortionate. And Peace Lilly - mom's close friend Beli, who was too gentle a hero for her own good. More a 'rescuing cats from trees' kind of girl. Three women. Three heroes with differing talents. Two of the trio were accounted for; with the third being in no way inclined to deal with large scale incidents.

Tiffany hoped with all of her heart that the person inside the bank was an Omega, and not some bystander driven to vigilantism in the wake of the recent unrest. Enough individuals with good intentions had died over the years. More senseless loss wasn't what the city needed.

And she sure as all heck didn't like Mike's music being used as some sort of calling card.

Music that was drowned out by a hail of gunfire! Muzzle flashes blinkered from inside the bank, terrified screams erupting over the wall of conflicting noise.

There was no time to lose!

Tiffany bolted from the booth and ran from the bathroom. Glenberry needed Mystic. Now.

* * *

By the time Mystic screamed onto the scene a SWOT van had rolled up outside the bank and established a wider blockade.

Tactical officers were in the middle of deploying and conducting final checks. Upon seeing the Omega they stood down without question - beyond content to let the heroine risk her neck first. A reality Mystic had never shied away from, as dark as it was.

"Miss Mystic!" a regular officer hurried over, a beat cop she'd seen before. "We were hoping you'd turn up."

Having prepared her deeper 'heroic' voice along the way, Mystic was ready to assume her rightful public role. "What's the situation, Cfficer Chang?"

"The gunmen have retreated into the basement. We're about ready to send in special response to aid the civilians. There's also someone else inside - another Omega like you."

"Another Omega?" Mystic repeated, wanting to be certain she'd heard the officer correctly.

"Right. That lunatic on the motorcycle. A guy, judging by his build. I only saw him from the back, and only for a few seconds."

Mom always used to say that being forewarned was the safest bet when doing hero work.

And she had been right. Information had saved Mystic's life more than once. "This Omega... What did he look like? Anything you can tell me is helpful."

The color drained from the good officer's face as he recalled. "Broad fella. Fairly tall and well-built. I'd say around maybe five-ten. He was decked out in blue camo pants and a biker's jacket - tacky riding getup. But he ain't nothing like you, ma'am."

The fear lacing Chang's voice made Mystic uneasy. "...What do you mean?" she asked cautiously, a brow raised behind her mask.

"Just be careful in there, Miss." The cop patted her shoulder, forcing a frightened smile. "Come back safe. My kid adores you."

"I'll do my best."

Prepared for whatever awaited, Mystic stepped inside - the panic alarm ringing loudly in her ears.

The front lobby was a mess; a surprising nip to the air. Bullet holes riddled the walls and cream painted ceiling. Several lights had been smashed, with one partially snapped from its fixture and sparking violently. An exchange between the Omega and the armed attackers, she guessed.

And speaking of the Omega, his bike was strewn in the middle of the room. A compact motorcycle in metallic blue. The keys weren't in the ignition and the music wasn't blurring anymore, much to Mystic's relief. There was no licence plate at the back, either.

Somebody didn't want to be traced... whoever he was.

Beside the vehicle laid one of the all too flashy red suit adorned goons - a member of Blaze's bunch for sure. A man with messy chocolate curls and a nine o'clock shadow. His chest rose and fell in a gentle motion - unconscious but alive. One of his arms was bent and broken in the most unnatural of positions.

A discovery that made Mystic's tummy squeeze. Her number one rule had always been to never get too rough with the bad guys - a rule she stuck to even in the most dangerous of situations. It was up the authorities to dish out the proper justice; violence wasn't the answer.

The panic alarm suddenly cut dead, prompting a sharp pause.

"Thank goodness!" came a grateful woman's voice from the back of the room. "Miss Mystic!"

Two General Finance employees rose up the behind plexiglass transaction counter - hands raised and terribly shaken. A wide built Caucasian man with a round face, and his female Asian counterpart - the slimmer of the pair. The lady inched closer to the glass, slowly lowering her hands to release her hair from its tightly pulled bun. Black locks flowed down her back - a relieved exhale following. "...You're here to help us, right?"

"Yes ma'am!" Mystic nodded, a thin smile on show to calm the distressed civilian. "The police are getting ready to come inside."

The female employee was relieved beyond words. "Thank goodness." Taking a backward step from the glass, she turned and pointed toward the downward-leading staircase off to the left of the Omega. "Those goons ran into the basement after that man on the bike came crashing in here."

Mystic looked to the stairs - wincing at the distant rattling of automatic gunfire downstairs. She turned her head. "How many of them?"

"Bad guys?"

"Yes. Knowing what I'm up against is important."

"B-But you're an Omega!" her colleague followed obnoxiously, his nose turned up in disgust. "Just get down there and deal with-"

"Derek!" his co-worker silenced him with a frazzled shout. "My aunt's on the Omega scale! Show some respect!"

The man muttered something under his breath and took several backward paces from his co-worker. The two wouldn't be sharing a drink at the bank's Christmas party; that was for certain. Merely being related to an Omega was an affront to some.

Mystic had seen the glint of quiet disdain in his eyes before. Too many times.

The female staff member returned her attention to the heroine - calming herself with a heavy breath. "Seven at first. Six now. Be careful, Miss Mystic."

"I will. Thank you."

Eyes on the prize, Mystic stepped away from the counter and descended into the unknown.

Law enforcement burst into the building as she hovered halfway down the stairs.

The civilians would be safe now, at the very least.

Even if one of them had hurt her feelings far more than he realized.

Omega were superhuman but not immortal; they bled and cried like everyone else.

* * *

This was supposed to be a simple bust. In and out. Grab the cash and go. One of two jobs the boss lady wanted done today. She hadn't said nothing about some lunatic on a bike smashing in and crashing the party. There weren't even supposed to be any Omega in Glenberry like this one, for shit's sake!

The goon gripped his Uzi tight - his lifeline. "C'mon you Fucker! Let's do this!"

Screaming himself hoarse, the man in red sprayed the shadows blindly, bullet casings rattling onto the floor and the gun's barrel glowing red-hot.

 _That got him, right?_ There was only way in and out of the vault. He had to be dead!

Undeterred by a shitstorm hot lead, boots crunched over the frosty floor. "...One last time," came a low, gruff voice. "Where is she...?

Blaze's underling pulled the trigger again. "Screw you, asshole!"

_Click._

And again.

_Click._

And one last time with a prayer.

_Click._

"Fuck it..." Gun was dry. Another mag; he needed another mag! "I-I ain't paid enough for this..."

The temperature plunged out of nowhere. Shivering, the goon dropped his weapon and fell to his knees. His fingers tingled and his body ached.

Ice crystals were forming before his eyes, a criss-crossing web of bluish-white diamonds enveloping the walls and floor.

"...Oh shit. He's here..."

Snatching up the gun did no good this go around. It was an ice cube! Too cold to grip, let alone fire.

All of the lights having frozen solid and burst save one, the desperate crook dragged himself up and ran for it.

A sharp slug from the edge of his vision bulldozed him flat; back colliding with the ground in a jarring thump.

"...Urgh..." A thin and raspy breath left the nameless grunt, his blurry eyes meeting the blackened void of a motorcycle helmet's visor.

A hand gripped his throat and plucked him effortlessly from the ground, hoisting him into the air.

"Bad move, buddy. Bad. Fucking. Move," the icy attacker reprimanded.

Eyesight straightening out, Blaze's handyman flailed. His energy soon ran out, his muscles too stiff and sore.

The Omega's right gloved hand (swirling with frosty, foggy pain) inched nearer his face - retaliation for the attempt at escape.

"Looks like we're doing this the hard way... Your loss."

"We are not alone," came a female voice, an echo bouncing off the iced concrete walls. "I would advise caution."

"You sense something?" asked the biker bluntly, his hand stalling just an inch from the goon's face. "More of _these_ useless morons?"

"Incorrect. Another Omega of substantial power; beyond even your current state of maximized operational capacity. It would be prudent to withdraw. It is clear that these lesser individuals possess little standing within the criminal hierarchy. They know nothing of Blaze's whereabouts."

"Ease back on the science-talk. I just need a little more time; to get a real feel for things."

"It is ill-advised to engage an unknown threat while barely adjusted to your limitations. You pledged that we would undertake this quest together _."_

The frozen freak dropped the goon. "Five minutes. Then we're outta here, the both of us _._ Buzz the bike clear, would you?"

 _"_ That is acceptable. _Loshi..."_ A piercing beep shot through the vault. "Shift complete." A second beep followed. "You have five minutes, Tundra."

The henchman scrunched into the fetal position, choking out a stinging sigh as the biker's boots trod from his line of sight

"Tundra, huh? Omega freak..."

A blue hand sprang toward his face in an electrical crackle, gagging the urge to scream.

* * *

Polished school shoes crunched over ice-covered floors, Mystic hugging her arms around her middle and shivering.

If only she'd packed a sweater with her hero uniform.

"F-Freezing..."

Bracing, she pushed on where her legs begged to remain rooted in place.

The narrow basement corridor leading toward the bank's open vault was a mess, strewn with henchmen in red - limbs twisted or broken with sunglasses cracked. Empty shells and bullet casings littered the underfoot, the weapons they'd been fired from discarded or damaged beyond use.

Mystic made emergency grabs for walls more than once on account of how slippery it was, opting instead to simply levitate through the dimly lit corridor.

Beneath the single remaining light stood a lonesome figure with arms folded - a stocky and well-built individual matching Officer Chang's description perfectly.

Camouflage pants. Check.

Biker Jacket and boots? Check.

Everything accept the enigma's face; which was covered by a silver motorcycle helmet and blacked-out visor.

Descending to the floor, Mystic stood ready for anything.

"Did you make the mess down here?" she questioned assertively; deepening her voice a reflex.

The biker seemed to retreat a step at the sight of her, arms dropping to his sides. "Doesn't make a difference if I did. Scrubs like these had it coming."

A man's voice, alright. Gruff and gravelly, yet oddly familiar.

Where did Mystic know it from?

The heroine shook her head. No. She must've been imagining it. Now wasn't the time to let her concentration slip.

"I don't approve of your methods," she reprimanded with a finger jab. "Rough up the bad guys too much and you'll give heroes a bad name."

A scoff from the rogue Omega, his hands squeezing into a pair of gloved, snowy fists. "Nobody said I'm a hero, Mystic."

So he knew her name, too? Hardly a surprise. Most in Glenberry did. "Seems like you know me. But what about you? What should I call you, Biker?"

The stranger let out a short, mocking laugh. "Tundra. But I'd say that's enough small-talk." His eyes shone - two greenish-blue orbs behind the visor. "My time's short, and I'd much rather see what you've got - Omega-style." He stepped forward - a sphere of icy energy swirling to life in his hand. "Up for it?"

Given that he was still coming toward her, Mystic felt she didn't have a choice.

The energy within Tundra's hand took the shape of an icicle. "Catch."

Grunting, he lobbed it like a harpoon.

Mystic buzzed aside and bumped the wall. Her arm throbbing, she let out a pained grunt. "Darn," she cursed aloud. "You're not playing fair!"

"World's not fair," said Tundra with sub-zero coldness matching his powers. "It's why sometimes we've gotta take matters into our own hands."

The basement's low ceiling and solid iron support beams prevented extensive movement.

Panic rose from the pit of Mystic's stomach, the girl behind the mask showing through at the worst possible time!

Step by step Tundra was closing in. A gust of arctic wind howled through the vault and connecting passage as he punched his fists together.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

The sound of his boots rebounded off the walls with every step.

Mystic stood her ground, a pink kinetic aura enveloping her outstretched arms and humming from her fingertips. "Stay back! I'm warning you!"

Her stone-cold threat advanced regardless. "Not happening. I'd rather knock a goodie-goodie like you outta the game early."

A warning shot, then. He'd left her no choice!

Concentrating as best she could, the lady Omega squeezed her hands shut.

Flickering megenta energy ensnared the biker.

"Mind tricks, huh?" Tundra slid back a few inches, successfully held in place. "...That the best you got?"

Hissing through gritted teeth, he forced his left leg forwards, and then his right. And again. And again.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

An invisible knife plunged into the back of Mystic's head as she mentally wrestled to maintain control.

How was he fighting back?!

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Onward his boots plodded, the gap between both Omega shortening.

Mystic's eyes watered, slightless claws sinking into her skull with every pained breath.

Tundra's gloved hand gripped Mystic's shoulder.

"Got you..." The distance was gone.

A second slid by. Two. Three.

His legs quaked. "Oh God..."

His breaths shortened.

Releasing Mystic, the well-built man coughed, wobbled, and stumbled sideways into the wall with a throaty yell.

His left hand shot upward, outstretched fingers sinking dead center into the surface of his chest.

Mystic's fearful hostility crumbled into total panic.

_A cardiac episode?!_

Whatever his reasons for being here, he needed a doctor!

"Hold on!" Mystic sprang for her fellow Omega, uncaring of the potential danger. "I'm coming!"

From a distorted and colorless shockwave there sprang a long sweeping leg, swatting her in reverse.

Righting herself and hovering off the ground, Mystic clutched her shaken tummy and looked on as woman emerged ahead of Tundra in an eruption of static electricity. Her hand shot over her eyes to shield them from the flash, her vision strained as she blinked to clear the light glare.

"You have exceeded your limit, as I warned you would," spoke the unknown intruder.

Able to see properly again, Mystic got a good look at the girl who had jumped to Tundra's side out of nowhere; a protective arm snaked around his waist.

She was tall, about as tall as he was. Long curvy legs. Wide hips and ample thighs. Her face was long, ivory white and dusted with freckles, her eyes emitting an unnatural bronzed shine, while lush golden blonde waves reached just past her two broad shoulders. Stacked braless in a black top with Double D cleavage fully on display, she sported faded purple denim jeans with a rip at the right knee.

Mystic swallowed hard, a bead of sweat crawling down her forehead despite the bite to the air.

"C-Celeste," Tundra spoke - strained and weak. "I-I need another-" He doubled over in the now-named woman's embrace and snarled from behind his visor.

"Negative." With the single word she extended her free arm, a chrome bracelet-like device around her wrist coming to life and flashing through every color imaginable with a high pitched whine - finally settling into a metallic grey. "Our pact is of great importance to me. Now, you must remain still."

" _Warning,"_ came a robotic voice from the gadget, causing Nystic to visibly flinch. "Matter transference _beacon, active. Short-range shift underway."_

A blinding flash of light tore through the basement and sent Mystic slipping and falling, a hand protecting her eyes while her butt took the brunt of it.

_"Shift successful."_

Belting out a frazzled moan from the back of the throat, the Omega massaged her temples and scrunched her eyes shut.

She felt the temperature around her climbing, the sound of dripping water all around.

Standing and opening her eyes, Mystic found no sign of the other Omega nor his surreal companion.

Legs shuddering, she fell against the damp, cold basement wall with a shallow breath.

Quiet. At long last there was quiet - nothing but faint murmurs from the floor above. A small blessing for the blonde's mounting headache.

"Breathe, Tiffany. Breathe."

Out of all the bizarre happenings she had weathered while braving Glenberry's hero scene, this one took the cake.

* * *

The door to her en-suite bathroom swinging open with a soft kinetic shove, Tiffany finished towel drying her waterlogged locks. Too drained to even think, she flopped back-first against her single bed, the second towel around her waist coming loose and exposing her bare body to the open air.

Too much of today's encounter with Tundra and Celeste didn't make sense - namely the latter's fancy wrist gadget.

Only some of the world's most daredevil villains (the sort tagged with international bounties) sported toys like those.

And even then they weren't _that_ fancy.

For the second time in a few short weeks, Tiffany was completely drained dry.

"...I need a hug."

Mom was out of the question, considering Wednesday was one of her 'work' nights.

That left two other options.

First she'd try Nikki - the less busy of the duo.

Half-heartedly swiping her phone from the bed-side table, Tiffany got to work texting.

_[Feeling kinda low right now. Work stuff. Want to come over? I've got Ben and Jerry's on standby :)]_

It didn't take long for the secret detective to reply. Nikki was never far from her phone, computer, or both.

[ _Can't tonight. Work too. Gotta help the cops, and tomorrow's my MMO day. Free Saturday, though. Noon at Nutmeg good?]_

A second, deeper sigh. Hero stuff always came first. Tiffany knew that well enough. Staying strong, she forced a smile.

[ _Noon's fine. See you there!]_

With Nikki out of the picture until the weekend, there was one avenue left to the comfort Tiffany craved. Her childhood friend. Her knight in shining armour.

[What's shakin', bacon? I've had a crazy day. Feelin' kinda bleh... :| Wanna stay over? We could binge a box set? Pizza's on me!]

Five minutes. Ten minutes.

Tiffany hauled herself over to the dinky kitchen counter beside the TV in the buff, swapping out the microwave cord for the kettle.

She flicked the switch. A coffee would perk her up.

Thirty minutes. An hour.

Two cups of coffee defeated and her attention loosely stolen by an old cartoon on the flat screen, all hope of getting a reply was lost.

Even Bugs Bunny couldn't re-awaken her distant childlike warmth tonight.

A sudden vibration from beside her changed all that, the honor student snapping up her phone.

_[Had a rough day myself, really rough. But I've always got time for you. Be there by eight. Sneak me in through the back, kay? And I'll get the pizza.]_

Butterflies fluttered in Tiffany's stomach. A sort-of-date ahead, she texted back with near-superhuman speed.

_[Awwww! A sweetheart as always! See you then! I'm looking forward to it. x x x]_

Plans agreed, the girl hopped up from her bed with renewed pep and zipped over to the open closet, making sure to hide her Mystic costume above all else.

Next? Her comfies for the evening! A baggy white tee and gym shorts would do.

And something else, too. For luck.

Reaching into the back behind her uniforms, Tiffany brought out her super secret weapon and unfolded it. Her cheeks glowed with heat, with yearning.

A pair of black and red lacy panties with floral trim - gifted from mother to daughter on her eighteenth birthday.

Tonight Mystic was firmly off duty. The girl behind the mask had needs, too.

Powerful needs. Human needs. _Naughty, private needs._

Tiffany's open palm found her chest, her heartbeat frantic; breaths short and excited.

With Mike staying over in place of Nikki, she'd take a chance.

Desires peaked to a simmer, she stepped into the underwear and slid them up smooth, freshly shaved legs; over her thighs.

With the faintly audible twang of elastic they squeezed tighty around her buns.

"Tonight's my night," she whispered, pulling the closet shut and admiring her reflection in the mirror. "Our night..."

She'd been a good girl all her life. A jealous girl, too. Of Audrey for getting there first... and Kyanna.

Hero work was thankless at times.

Seeking comfort wasn't against the rules. Neither was wanting to be loved.

Tiffany deserved it. Just this once.

**To be continued...**


	4. Issue IV (Sincerity)

**Behind the Mask**

**Issue IV (Sincerity)**

**(M)**

Eight on the dot. Tiffany's room was tidy. The pizza had been delivered (despite Mike's desire to pay for it) and sat on the little kitchen counter with two regular soda cups neatly beside it. Everything was set, and the honor student was ready to take her leap of faith.

There was just one obstacle in the way of her brave plunge. An unexpected visitor.

Dolled up a frilly red dress, the girl laid across her bed while skimming through a copy of Fashion Weekly.

"Can't believe you're ditching me for some guy tonight," she sniped, turning the page. "How'd the fuck you forget it's Half off Wednesday at Lusties?"

 _This is bad, really bad._ Tiffany frowned. Exhaling tiredly, a sense of impending doom churned in the pit of her stomach. "Sorry, Audrey. I've had a lot on my plate. I've been muddled since Kyanna-" Stalled on memories pf the singer's final living minutes, she bit down on her trembling lip - a battle against unsteady emotions. Her chest tightened and a lump formed in her throat. Fighting the urge to cry, Tiffany bit down the corner of her lip. "I've-"

Audrey set down the magazine at the foot of the bed and got up, swooping in and providing a much-needed hug.

"I get it, girl. I get it. Don't get worked up, alright?"

Tiffany closed her eyes, her worries dulled by another's warmth. "Thanks. I'm super sorry to bail on you, though."

"Water under the bridge, bitch," Audrey snorted. "Sooner we get your cherry popped, the better. Who's your date?"

Silence.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Tiffany's tummy flipped. "Nobody important..." The lie burned rolling off her tongue.

"Bullshit," her friend retorted, a sarcastic chuckle falling from her. "Like you'd go out with anyone on the casual. It's gotta be someone half-decent, knowing you. Squeaky clean, good track record; straight A's across the board and shit."

"Not quite," Tiffany replied nervously, burying her face against Audrey's shoulder like a shy schoolgirl. Her knight in shining armor had gone through community college and came from a nice stable family, but he'd battled against struggles aplenty. Now moreso than ever, given the special someone they'd both tragically lost because of Blaze.

"Then who? Shit, girl. Spit it out!"

"Mike..." The name left Tiffany's mouth as little more than a whisper.

"Mike Brentman from the football team? Niiice! Dude has a huge-"

"No, Audrey," Tiffany cut off the redhead. Her queasy feeling was closer to outright nausea as the pair locked gazes. "Musician Mike."

"Winters...?" Audrey withdrew her hug quickly and coldly, leaving Tiffany to fall unsupported against the bedsheets; discarded. "Talk about playing it risky," the party girl spat, drawing back. "Pretty Boy's used half the girls round town as his personal cum dumpsters. 'Nobody important' my ass. _He used me_..."

The bitterness to Audrey's tone still stung, even if Tiffany totally understood where it came from. Trapped navigating a storm between two people she cared most dearly about, all the secret Omega could do was try to brave the waves as best she could. "I know what he did..."

"And here the fuck you are, still defending him," Audrey grumbled.

Sadly, Tiffany's few justifications wouldn't do much to stop the intensely emotional diva from erupting into a tsunami of rage. A lesson well-learned after seeing her fly off the handle time and again at some of the smallest things. Spilled drinks. Being late to classes. A parking ticket.

And yet, there was little choice but to run the gauntlet.

"Time changes people, Audrey. It's been over a year since he first left."

"Does it, though? Did my Aunt Brooke change?"

"Well... no."

"Did any of rich boy Mark's TV debates stop his dad treating Omega like scum?"

"No... They didn't."

"Exactly, and God knows the snobby prick tried. People. Don't. Change." Mantra recited hatefully, Audrey turned away and reclaimed her fashion rag. She thumbed through to what looked like a cosmetics article, her fingers scrunching around the page's edges as she scoured the print. "The sooner you quit telling yourself the world's all sunshine and rainbows, the better. Same goes for those dumbass feelings for Winters. You'll only get hurt if you don't..."

Tiffany's stomach settled, the redhead having said her piece. Her hopes washed out to sea, she shuffled over to the head of her bed, sat upright, and hugged her knees to her chest. "Be honest. Are you angry with me; for feeling the way I do about him?"

Audrey's fingers pressed into the paper even harder, crinkling it. "You and me?" she looked over, slimed painfully, and closed magazine cover. "We're cool." Her lips soon fell despite the assurance, however. "But don't come crying to me if he humps and dumps you, we clear?"

The thought of waking up in an empty bed after her first time nearly tore Tiffany in half.

"But he wouldn't-"

"Do that to you? Come back to me after you've laid there hungover on a grubby motel mattress wondering what the fuck went wrong."

Overwhelmed with guilt, Tiffany hid her face between her knees.

"Now... Are w _e clear_...?" Audrey repeated assertively.

"Perfectly," her bestie answered in a heavy breath.

"Good. And one more thing..."

"Hmm?" Tiffany peered upward worriedly.

Audrey loomed with her magazine rolled up into a cylinder. Bopping Tiffany's head gently, she cracked a sly grin. "Condoms."

"What?" the blonde blinked, contraception's sudden mention catching her off guard more than the playful bonk.

"Rubbers. You got any? How about the pill?"

"But I thought you weren't-"

"I've gotta watch your back somehow, don't I? I'd be a shitty girlfriend if I didn't..."

A pause. The honor student felt her face heating up. "Oh... Umm, no."

Omega had almost non-existent conception rates compared to non-Omega. The stronger the Omega, the lower the average chance of pregnancy also. A tragically ironic trade-off for their oftentimes amazing powers, it was often said by the media. Sexually transmitted disease rates were far lower among them, too. A pair of useful titbits they'd added onto the backs of information cards in sexual health clinics nationwide in recent years.

All thanks to an uptick in Omega populations in bigger cities over the last generation, ironically.

A series of factors which when combined with a superhero double life left surprisingly little time for intimate enjoyment nor a need for protection.

"Fucking figures," Audrey exhaled hopelessly, blissfully unaware of Tiffany's secret. "Got you covered." Ditching her magazine, she reached over the side of the bed to recover her purse. Popping it open and sifting through, she produced a small paper package and tossed it between the cheerleader's bare feet. "My last one," she said with a wink. "Pretty boy likes it bareback. He blows his load, make sure you pop it. You end up preggers? I'll beat _his_ ass."

Though very doubtful, the support was appreciated all the same.

"Thanks, Audrey."

"Don't mention it." Putting up her purse and shuffling back, the party girl got off the bed and collected her heeled shoes. Slipping them on, she glanced over to Tiffany one last time. "Figure I'll hit the rave they're holding downtown since you're not coming out; get craaazy high." Her plans declared with the usual carefree flare, she made for the door and tugged it open, the hinges crying out for oil - a neglected task. "Later babe. Have fun!"

"Later!" Tiffany called from her spot on the bed, breathing a sigh as the door thumped closed.

For a moment she stared at the paper back between her feet, her cheeks flushing red.

 _Speaking of having fun..._ She brought out her phone from her shorts pocket and glanced at the time.

_8:17pm_

There was still no sign of the special guest.

Any longer sat out on the side and the pizza would get cold.

"Where are you, Mike?"

Given all the protests and violence lately, what if he'd been hurt? Or worse? He was famous now. A rising star - a target. Blaze had already made her stance on wealthy and famous very clear. First at a celebrity music concert, and then at the city bank.

Anxiety rising in her chest, Tiffany looked over her shoulder to the closet. "I should do something, just to be safe."

It wouldn't take her long to slip into Mystic's costume and scour the campus to ensure nothing dangerous was afoot. Five minutes tops. No more and no less.

Her phone's sudden vibration made her flinch; on edge as she was.

Focusing on the screen, Tiffany scrolled through to the message tab. Relief surged through her upon tapping the inbox's top message.

_[Sorry I'm a little late; something came up. I'm waiting for you around back of the Ward Building. That's your dorm, right?]_

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Not least because Mike was safe, but because he also remembered her dorm building after all this time. Fingers working overtime, she set about writing up a reply. _[Sure is! I'll be right out, so don't go anywhere. Pizza's already here, too ;)]_

And sent.

Mike's reply pinged up quickly. _[But I was gonna order tonight's pizza. No fair! :(]_

_[Sorry, but it's my treat! Besides, you bought the last two.]_

_[Keeping score, are we? ;)]_

_[You know it! Now, stay put. There're a few Amp addicts on campus, and I don't want you getting in trouble.]_

_[Got it. Think I see their dealer by the dumpster. Big dude with gelled back hair? Padded coat?]_

Tiffany's unrest peaked. _[Darn. Can you see his face? Is there a scar on his forehead, above his right eyebrow?]_

[ _Can't say. I'm not close enough. He's wearing Doc boots though, and blue-black pattered camo pants.]_

_[Yep, it's probably Alex... Guy's real a jerk. Stay close to the door. I'll be two shakes of a lamb's tail.]_

Bundling the phone into her pocket, Tiffany got up from her bed and double-timed slipping on her sneakers. Mystic had chased Alex off campus once already, a good few weeks back. He'd obviously paid attention to the psychokinetic heroine's reduced campus visits and snuck back while she wasn't around.

A misguided petty thug sculpted like a brick wall, he was no trouble for a serious Omega. Probably a four on the scale at most.

 _A civilian, though?_ Tiffany winced as her mind ran through all sorts of awful scenarios. Bending down, she tied her laces and sprang up again right quick.

She wasn't taking any chances.

* * *

Tiffany nearly shoulder barged her way through Ward's service door, Mike's safety at the front of her thoughts.

Hearing Alex's voice already, her stomach dipped. "-happened next? Don't hold out on us!"

What she saw upon peering around the corner left her reeling.

Mike was encircled; Alex at his front and his two 'clients' behind. Decked out in black sweatpants with a white stripe down the left leg, a matching sleeveless vest and grubby white low-tops, the musician warmly chatted away with the all-male group as they passed around glowing purple capsules from a labeless pharmaceutical bottle. Each taking turns popping, the junkies' and dealer's fingers alike crackled and sparked with scorching reds and icy bitter blues.

Emoting dramatically like a game of charades, Winters had the three grinning like idiots. "-and so the bartender says 'don't sit there, it's not a stool!'"

The trio doubled over in howling laughter.

Bewildered as all heck, Tiffany stepped out into the open and snagged Mike by the arm. "Everything okay...?"

Looping his through hers, he nodded. "Good as can be."

Gripping his sides and wheezing, Alex looked up at the pair with tears in his eyes. "Maye! Winters' a friend of yours?"

"Sure is," she nodded cautiously.

"Fuckin' aye. Who'd have thought you'd know each-other. Dude's a riot!"

"I aim to please, fellas," Mike said proudly. "See you round, yeah?"

"Later, man." Alex, twitched sparks crackling up his neck. "Say 'Hi' to Nora for me. And don't worry. Far as I've seen, you ain't here."

"Will do, and thanks." A small, grateful smile from the singer. "It's hard enough catching a break these days."

* * *

Finished escorting her dearest friend safely inside, a nagging question prodded at Tiffany as she bolted her door. "How'd you know Alex Martinez?"

Mike shrugged. "Long story."

One Tiffany was very interested to hear. "Mind sharing?"

"Sure thing." Releasing the sports bag from his shoulder and dropping it beside the bed, Mike's residual smirk widened. "Met him through Kyanna's cousin. Guy's a little rough around the edges, sure, but he's not bad at heart. He visited the house once, when we still lived upstate."

Now for the important question. "Did you know he dealed?"

"I had my suspicions, but nothing concrete."

It made sense. He was a friend of Nora's after all. "He should stop. Amp's dangerous; it kills people."

Amp. Scientific name: Amperazine B. A chemical compound-turned street drug Mystic spent too much time policing during her campus patrols.

"Tell that to all the thin-blooded Omega out there, not just their dealers," Mike highlighted grimly.

"You have a point... But it can't be worth it. The addiction. The withdrawals..." Tiffany sighed.

Countless thousands died every year, people like Mystic - all to feel tiny heroic jolts.

"Power's a blessing to some; that's my guess." Mike gazed into his opened out palms thoughtfully. Putting on a brave face, he closed them into fists and shook his head. "Then again... It's not like I know anyone below a two on the government's crappy chart."

"No Omega friends at all?" Tiffany asked. A little innocent mischief wouldn't hurt. "Not even one?"

Awaiting an answer, she walked around the bed to the makeshift kitchenette and placed a hand on the pizza box lid. _Cold._

"Not- Actually... screw it. You're good with secrets. There's one... sort of."

So Mike did have an Omega friend (outside of Mystic) after all. Tiffany wasn't too surprised, in truth. Despite the media portraying her kind as rarities, more everyday people knew, or had crossed paths with an Omega at some point. "No kidding? Who are they?"

Maybe she'd even met them, if they were a Glenberry local, of course.

"A fan of mine. We had a private meet and greet not too long ago. She was... nice about it. Surprised me, though."

"I'll bet. It's not every day someone admits to being an Omega. But-" Tiffany paused and gasped. "Wait... Was she in costume at all?"

"Nope. Not unless hot pink skirts are all the rage."

An awestruck blink. "And she confessed to you...?" A bewildered question.

"She did. And she showed off her powers, too. No masks. No secrets. I even know her real name."

"Her life's in your hands now," Tiffany stated, perhaps a bit too sternly. "I hope you realize that."

"Clear as day. Which is exactly why her secret lives and dies with me."

"Good..." Tiffany breathed out. Anxiety swelling in her chest, she picked up a pair of plates. "Want a little pizza?"

"I'm game for a slice. But is everything okay? You're looking a little... flustered."

"Everything's fine, really." A swift deflection.

"So long as you're sure. Mind if I check the TV?"

"You don't need to ask, silly," Tiffany insisted. "What's mine is yours."

"I appreciate it and all... but I'm the guest."

"Which is why I should cater to you," Tiffany affirmed, glancing back with a strained smile after plugging in the microwave cord. Mike had repositioned at the foot of the bed. "Remote's right there, next to the stand. No need to ask permission next time."

"Got it." The screen's backlight brightened the lamp-lit room, the low mumbles of voices drifting over the air.

Ever Mike's hobby, the channel hopping began.

" _-tuned for more on Glenberry Music!"_

_"-the plaintiff should provide the appropriate documentation to the court beforehand, Your Honor."_

_"-oh Lord, a fire. Ain't nobody got time for that!"_

_"-be hosting a televised press conference at the Kane Industries building in just two short hours' time."_

Tiffany's ears pricked up at Markus Kane's eloquent speech. Likely Mike's too, as the television's volume rose a notch or two.

Finished setting the microwave dial, Tiffany turned around to watch while the pizza heated through.

Ever collected and well-presented in a pressed white shirt and black trousers, the mid-twenties businessman ran a steady hand through his short chocolate-brown hair and pushed the pair of black sunglasses up to the bridge of his prominent nose. Across from him in a matching leather seat, Christine Carmine seemed partway through a round of interview questions. A hopeful flutter gripped Tiffany's stomach as she paid the exchange mind.

_"So you're in direct opposition to your father's motion, Mister Kane?"_

_"I most certainly am, Miss Carmine."_

_"Even if it undermines his position of moral authority as Glenberry's governor?"_

_"Miss Carmine, we need not muddy this already tragic matter beyond reproach. It is an issue of human rights, not partisan politics; hence my efforts."_

_"But many in senior positions already back your father's suggestion for some form of binding legislation for Omega."_

_"And the draft bill put forward by Congress merely echoes his sentiments to throttle citizen's liberties. When my Great Grandfather Klein immigrated to this wonderful country a century ago, he did so because he believed in the ideals of justice and freedom; freedom from oppression."_

_"Be that as it may, some locally argue your sympathetic stance toward Omega downplays last month's concert incident."_

_"The awful event's gravity is not lost upon me, Miss Carmine. Need I remind you that-"_

Mike sighed and flicked over to the country music channel. "Keep fighting the good fight, Mark. God knows, you're the only one without a mask that is."

The Microwave ping made Tiffany flinch, her nostrils teased by melted cheese; her brain frazzled by world issues. "Food's done."

Frazzled for two reasons. The Mike she'd known before stardom hadn't been the slightest bit interested in politics. Neither had the national celebrity surrounded by cameras and journalists - not publically, anyway. Until recently, his biggest concern had been his career as a singer; his all-powerful desire to follow every creative's dream - to turn their talent into a living. A dream he'd taken with both hands.

But now? He'd pivoted; his priorities skewed just slightly by that single awful gunshot.

And Tiffany would do everything she could to ease his pain; to be his heroine without her mask.

* * *

An empty pizza box and two finished soda cups later, Tiffany had snuggled close to Mike, am arm linked through his and her head rested against his well-toned bicep. Her secret way of breathing in his cologne without being too obvious, and a closeness he'd forever allowed thanks to their extra special bond.

She'd been quietly waiting for an opportunity to deepen the conversation beyond the usual banter.

They'd reached the topic of popularity struggles after chatting about her role as U.O.G cheer squad captain. As good a start as any, and a topic Tiffany felt all too strongly about, being both a superhero and at the heart of the college football community.

"At least you don't need a private firm to vet your mail," Mike shook his head, and laughed nervously. "Some of the things fans sent us were beyond strange. I swear, Kyanna wanted to start paying the guys we sent to the post office danger money."

Tiffany would never see frogs in the same way again. "I'm surprised she didn't scream when she opened it."

"Nora said her piece, let me tell you."

Despite only meeting Kyanna's cousin a few times, Nora Delrio had left a strong impression. "I can imagine." Tiffany snorted. "Kinda silly, though."

Mike snickered. "Why a windup frog?"

"I was thinking the same!"

The pair burst out laughing, holding one-another for support - much to Tiffany's enjoyment.

After a while the last fleeting giggles died down. The dorm room fell quiet: all except for the sitcom playing out on the TV. Maria hadn't mustered up the courage to tell Randy how she felt. An episode a little too close to home. The credits rolling on the third episode of Roomies tonight, Mike yawned gently.

The girl behind the mask sensed her chance. "Tired?" she asked sweetly, squeezing the musician's arm just a touch tighter.

"Running on empty, yeah," Mike said, blinking wearily. "It's been one hell of a day."

"I bet. You know, Mike..." Tiffany flashed hot, the moment of truth upon her. "Y-You don't have to sleep on the floor tonight, n-not if you don't want to."

"Huh?" The musician chuckled, looking over from the TV. "You going to sleep down there with me or something?"

Through he'd missed her hint by a country mile, Tiffany would work with what she'd been given. "I-I mean, I could. We wouldn't want you getting cold..."

Mike's expression turned wonderfully soft and sympathetic, his strong green eyes practically glittering. "Look, Tiff... I know you're worried about me, after all that's happened, but you bending over backwards like you're doing? I feel guilty. You have your own life to live."

As much as she hated unchaining her inner Jessie, being bent over was exactly what Tiffany wanted - and more.

"You're missing the point..."

Blushing fearsomely, she unthreaded her arm from Mike's and slinked her way into his lap. His breaths hitched at her sudden charm offensive, his eyes widening just a touch. And best of all, they drank her up; were fixated on her with the heat of two burning suns. It was now or never.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about us?" Tiffany touched her fingers to his cheek, caressing his skin. "Together, I mean."

Her question made Mike shiver, and she relished it. "I mean, once or twice, yeah, but-"

"Only once or twice?" she hummed alluringly.

"Lots more," he admitted, warmth lacing his voice. Tiffany's skin tingled hearing it.

"Oh really? Now I'm curious..."

"Remember Valentine's two years ago?"

"Uh-huh." The blonde nodded. "Sure do."

Valentine's Day. The time of sweetness and romance that rolled around each February; her favorite celebration besides Christmas.

"How about gifts? Did you get any?"

"A few, mostly from the football team." A white lie turned habit after being flooded with flowers and sparkly trinkets since First Year. Being captain of the university cheer squad did that to a girl. Not that she was ungrateful for the woolly gestures, of course.

"Nice try, Miss Popular." Mike smirked.

"Darn," Tiffany cursed sheepishly. He'd seen through her. "How'd you know?"

"Call it a hunch. Your Valentines mail probably needs its own storage depot."

Tiffany's face practically glowed. Mike was ever the charmer. "I-I wouldn't go that far..."

"Okay then. Let's forget your heaps of presents from guys on campus. Was there anything else you got that year? Something small? Subtle?"

Tiffany pondered. As ember sparking to life, she snapped her fingers. "There was one gift..."

"Go on."

"A box of chocolates." They'd arrived wrapped in glittery silver box with a bright red ribbon tied over the lid. "Someone left them at mom's house for me."

"But they didn't come with a note, right?"

"No they-" Tiffany paused, a surprised rasp tumbling from her. The only way Mike could've known- " _You_...?"

A confirmatory nod from the musician. "Jessie's the best at keeping secrets."

Tiffany swelled with glee. Her arms coiling around Mike's waist, she pouted. "You should've told me..."

"It wouldn't have been that easy, remember?"

"Right..." The cheerleader sighed as she recalled, her head lulled against Mike's shoulder and her excitement dulled. "You'd just taken out Kyanna for the first time." She'd babysat Philip while the pair went out to Vinnies for a fancy dinner. The first date which started the unknowing duo down the road to stardom.

"But that was then," Mike lamented, his tone bittersweet. "A lot's changed..."

Burying a guilty twinge, Tiffany glanced up and touched a gentle palm to his cheek. "Sure has. And we're still together, friends through it all."

"We are."

"And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

"That a promise?"

Tiffany winked. "It might be."

"Careful, Tiff. Way I'm been feeling I'll hold you to that."

Tiffany's heart thumped inside her chest. "Fine by me." Harder. And harder. And harder still. "Mikey...?"

"Yeah...?" Their faces inched nearer and nearer. Their noses touched.

Tiffany brushed her lips against his and purred - a wildcat on the prowl. "Wanna share the bed tonight?"

Mike gulped, a bead of sweat crawling down his forehead. "I'd be down for that, yeah."

"Good..." Tiffany pushed her pray against the sheets. "Because I've waited for you... for a long time."

Slamming their lips together, the wildcat became a lioness.

* * *

A women's white tee fell from the corner of the bed and onto floor. The sound of kisses teasing flesh lingered over the air.

The lioness had met her perfect match, shuddering as a gentle palm kneaded her right breast.

"...Feel good?" Mike's rouge-drenched question caused a further shiver.

"Uh-huh..." Her breaths short and thoughts lust-drunk, the Omega put her trust into his experienced hands. "A-Amazing..."

The well-toned arm looping her back tightened supportively, a suave chuckle leaving its owner's lips. "We should've done this sooner."

Tiffany's heart swelled, Mike's confession a long-time dream come true.

Her head swam in circles as lips trailed the nape of her neck in appreciation. Lower and lower they sank. Her skin suddenly pinched between another's teeth, an approving whine slipped out. Skin tingling and her mind melting, she closed her eyes and relied upon her other senses.

The warmth of clammy skin to skin.

The faint whiff of cologne seeping into her.

The pounding of her heartbeat with her lover's every attentive move.

The springs squeaking as her back fell against the mattress.

"Look at me, babe."

A request Tiffany wouldn't grant for the world right now. "Nope..."

"Alright then..." Fabric rustled, the sound of clothing being discarded. Mike's vest, Tiffany guessed. "Suit yourself."

The springs cried out. Mike's heat intensified, his arm snaking her back and his bare chest pressing to hers.

His breaths were penetrating. Tiffany's tummy fluttered. "Remember the time we went out to Lusties...? Just the two of us?" the musician asked.

"Hard to forget," the blonde remembered, a shiver racing through her. "You got stupid drunk and I had to bundle you into a cab."

"Right..." Mike cupped her cheek. "And we kissed."

The world stopped spinning. Tiffany's eyes opened wide. Her whole body surged red hot. "You knew what you were doing?"

"Of course. Just needed a little Dutch courage to make it happen."

"You drank half the bar half dry..."

"Lots of Dutch courage," Mike added. "I'd rather we do it right this time."

"Me too..." Her emotions both lustful and loving overflowing, Tiffany closed the gap and pressed her mouth to his.

A woman's kiss. A proper, meaningful kiss. Tongues knotted. Chests heaved.

Mike's hand trailed up the length of her thigh and clamped firmly around her butt. Driven by longing, hers lowered from the waistband of his sweatpants to the bulge between his legs - a short but intentionally playful squeeze rewarded. Gifted a growl in return, the secret Omega shuddered. A hand slid beneath her shorts, its fingertips crawling over the lacy fabric. Beneath it. A rogue digit travelled lower, and lower still - to a woman's most special of places.

Tiffany whined into Mike as he teased her feminine skin - a wonderful new experience.

And with it, a pause. Tongues came untied. Hopeful Aquamarines twinkled against nervous emeralds.

A first for Winters given his track record with girls around town.

Tiffany leaned in and brought their foreheads together, the pair still joined by a glistening string. "You okay?"

"This feels... different - to what I'm used to," Mike answered, his voice small - unsure.

Tiffany's tummy quivered. _Am I doing something wrong?_ "...How so?"

"My heart won't quit racing." Mike shut his eyes, his face a flush red. "And I can't keep my head together. I-I don't get it."

 _And Audrey says people can't change._ Tiffany secretly beamed at what she was hearing. "Almost like it's your first time all over again...?"

"Yeah." Breathing thinly, Mike re-opened his eyes. "It's annoying. And it scares the hell outta me."

"Love. That's love, Mikey." Tiffany giggled. "Don't be frightened, silly."

"Can't help it. Celebrity life gets cold; distant, and stage lights don't warm it much." A tear rolled down her childhood friend's cheek.

The loneliness behind Mike's trembling gaze stung. It was cost of living two lives. The musician and the man beneath all of that.

Mystic suddenly felt closer to home than ever, and there was only one thing Tiffany could think to do to ease their pain.

"Then I guess we're pretty alike." A deep breath in. And out. "Mikey, there's something you need to know, about me..."

The truth needed to come out. So they could both find real solace in spite of their individual struggles.

But first, she joined their lips again - to steel her nerves. It was powerful. Heartfelt. Mike was left panting when she drew back.

"The truth is..." Tiffany swallowed her fears. "I'm an O-"

A phone's vibration from Mike's pants pocket cut her off.

" _No, I don't wanna be a hero; I'm not here to save the world! I just wanna make you mine._ " The heavy rock ringtone further dampened her urge to confess.

It rang on. And on. And on. Shredding guitar solo and all. " _-cuz you're my real life rock and roll. You're my world now, baby._ "

A painful silence hung in the air between the interrupted pair, save the continuous melody.

"You should take it," Tiffany prompted, suppressing a frustrated sigh as best she could. A person's second life didn't wait, be it superstardom or superhero.

Untangling himself from the cheerleader, Mike rose to his knees and took out his phone. His eyes widened against the screen.

Tiffany sat up and grabbed for a pillow to cover her exposed chest, crossing her legs. "Who is it?"

"My new assistant." Mike said, swiping left and putting the phone to his ear, "Not exactly business hours." He moved for the edge of the bed. Swinging his legs over the side and arching his back, he grabbed for his discarded black vest top from its spot next to Tiffany's crumpled white tee.

A shrill but muffled girl's voice yapped through the phone speaker.

Mike winced and bit his lip, scrunching the vest in his lap. "Slow down, Sarah. Okay. Okay... The new Promo CD's finished already? Got it. And you called me about this, why, exactly?" He groaned, eyes narrowed and fingers constricting the phone. "They want me there tonight?! You're sure? It's gone ten."

Sarah's muffled yapping esculated. Mike massaged his temples with his free hand.

"And you're absolutely a hundred percent sure...? I wasn't expecting another - not after this afternoon."

A pause while Sarah continued.

"Luvenia said so?"

Another, longer Pause.

An extremely weary exhale left Mike once Sarah finished. "Fine then. What Luvie says, goes. I'll go check it- You're not coming with me."

Indignant yapping followed.

"Because you take too long." A short, relenting huff. "Fair enough, you win - be fast though. Makeup. Door. Cab. No detours. I'll head to Luvie's office now."

" _Sugoi_! _"_ Tiffany heard the girl's strangely foreign-sounding reply. Poor Mike shrivelled at its loudness.

Exhausted by the call, the singer hung up and returned the phone to his pocket. "Damn she's a handful when she's worked up..."

Their special night well and truly over, Tiffany counted her blessings and cuddled the pillow. Their time together had been lovely, if woefully short. "You're going now, right?" Asking made her heart ache. She'd been so close to breaking the boundaries between them, too.

"Looks like it." Mike turned back and nodded. Noting her disappointment, he offered her a hand. Accepting, she rested hers atop his. "Stardom awaits," he scoffed bitterly. "But we should meet up again - _talk everything over_. I'm game whenever I can spare a night." Offer presented, he dared a glassy smile.

"Is that promise...?" An offer Tiffany intended to take, provided it was heartfelt.

"Sure is, Miss Maye." He leaned in and kissed her forehead to confirm. "And... thanks. For being dependable, and honest."

 _If only you knew..._ Tiffany stole one last peck and shifted her hand from his. "I try, Bacon. But you should get going. Don't keep Miss Sarah waiting."

"That'd be a first," Mike grumbled. Getting off the bed, he collected and unrolled his socks. "Girl's a great friend - a nightmare employee."

Tiffany felt a jealous twinge. The unfortunate side-effect of the night getting heated, she decided.

 _Don't let it get the better of you._ Burying the ugly emotion deep down, she watched as Mike slipped on his shoes and slung his sports bag over his shoulder.

Jealousy soon twisted into unease. "I'll see you off campus. Pass my shirt, would you? "

"Don't worry," her friend reassured smoothly, picking up and tossing Tiffany her creased tee. "I'm stronger than you realize."

Tiffany caught her top. Moving away the pillow, she put it back on. "Just to the gates then, tough guy." Claiming a twine hairband from the mismatched assortment on the nightstand, she tied back her love-scruffed strands into pony and got off the bed to join Mike. "I'd rather be safe than sorry."

Being tough didn't make someone an Omega.

"Bus stop's fine," Mike said, making for the door. Tiffany followed, stopping just short of the doorway and stepping into her sneakers. "Left one of my bike's parked uptown - premium rate. Need to pick her up before the fees spiral, or someone steals her."

An abrupt pause partway through tying her laces, Tiffany's thoughts lingered on the biker at the bank - Tundra. He and Mike were built the same, on reflection. "Hey... Mikey? Did you see the news today?" Finished with her shoes, she released the chain and opened up the door.

"Nope," Mike responded, walking out into the hall ahead of her. He glanced back. "I was with my PR rep all day; Luvenia."

"Luvenia..." A pause. "The one you talked about over the phone?"

"Right. She originally European. Spanish, I think. Why Something up?"

"Oh erm... Not really. It's a pretty name."

"Sure is. You mentioned the news. Something happen?"

"A bank robbery. The same people from the concert hit General Finance. Christine Carmine covered it."

"The guys in the red suits?"

Tiffany nodded. "Um-hmm."

Mike paused, Shrugged, and offered Tiffany his hand. "Fuck 'em. That what heroes are for, right?"

"R-Right." _Now you're imagining things._ Dropping the crazy notion, Tiffany linked their arms. The two began walking, a smile on the lady's lips. "Mystic turned up in just a nick of time, and some idiot even smashed through the windows with a bike. I saw the whole thing on the TV in Nutmeg. It looked scary."

"On a bike? A vigillante, probably."

"I guess so. According to the report they weren't found."

"Mystic didn't stop them?"

A shake of the head, and a quiet pang of shame with it. "Apparently not, no."

"Don't get too tangled up with it all," Mike advised. "People like that burn bright and fizzle out fast - there and gone before you know it."

"You're probably right..."

Reaching the corridor's end, the two stopped by Ward's back doors.

"Hey, Tiff?"

The heroine turned. "Yeah?"

Mike swept in pecked her cheek. She squeaked, caught off guard by his lips brushing against her skin.

"There you go," he said after moving back. "Cheer up."

"Someone's being extra nice." Far from ungrateful, Tiffany blushed and tittered.

"Had to do something. I hate it when you frown."

Tiffant unlinked their arms and threw hers around Mike's shoulders. "You're such a sweetheart. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Rising to her tiptoes, she brought their lips together.

Whatever awaited, life wouldn't be quite the same for the girl behind the mask after tonight.

And she was thankful for that.

Because she was one step closer to having a special someone she could rely upon, no matter the obstacles she faced.

* * *

A phone buzzed in the darkness, face down and forgotten.

A pair of fingers crept lower and lower, beneath the fabric of the girl's underwear.

They stroked. They rubbed. They teased.

"Harder," she begged. "Harder," she pleaded. "Harder," she whined.

What could've been. What should've been. They had bubbled into steaming obsessions.

"More..." Her fingers quickened. "More..." Her breaths shortened. They became filthy rasps, a fleck of drool leaking from the corner of her mouth.

Again the phone buzzed.

Police sirens blurred off in the distance.

The girl didn't care. Nothing else mattered but here and now.

Her thoughts. Her desires. Her fantasies.

_Faster... Harder... Deeper._

_Her F_ ingers thrusted. Her hips bucked. Slick pink flesh screamed for release.

"Mikey..." She called out to the object of her desires.

Hot and sticky, she pinched, she rubbed, she flicked.

_"Look at me, babe..."_

His voice swam inside her head. His kisses were ghostly tingles. His cologne lingered on the sheets.

A sigh. A gasp. A whimper.

Again the phone buzzed for attention, her everything sizzling at a fever pitch.

He tugged at her ponytail and sank his teeth into her neck. His palm cracked against her behind.

_"Wanna share the bed tonight?"_

He was inside her - stuffing her full - driving her wild.

_"I'd be down for that, yeah."_

Tiffany Maye's entire body tensed.

Euphoria surging from between her legs and washing over her every inch, she belted out a vixen's moan.

"Oh shit..." Dirty words for an equally dirty girl.

Spent and damp with sweat, she fell limp against the linens and shivered.

Her phone vibrated no longer.

**To be continued...**

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! A little slice of fried gold. Did you like it? Would you like to see more in future? As always, keep on supporting Huniepop and I'll see you in the next chapter. Take care, guys and girls.


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